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A COUNTRY PARISH 

ANCIENT PARSONS AND 
MODERN INCIDENTS 

BY 

FRANK SAMUEL CHILD 

Author of "An Old New England Town" 
"An Unknown Patriot," etc. 




THE PILGRIM PRESS 

NEW TOBK BOSTON CHICAGO 



tZ C Ji., 



Copyright, 1911, 
By Frank Samuel CmLD 



THE • RUMFORD • PRESS 
CONCORD • N.H • U ' S ' A 

©CI.A305071 






TO 

MY FRIEND 

J. SANFORD SALTUS 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

• FACINQ 

PAGE 

The House of Worship . . . Frontispiece 

Mill River Ford 13 

An Old-Fashioned Garden 65 

Arching Elms 95 

The Lych Gate 129 

The Fresh Am Home 145 

Library and Fountain for Perennial Refresh- 
ment 185 

A Garden View of Sherman Parsonage . . 215 



Ixil 



FOREWORD 



At a recent convention of Christian 
workers representing churches in city and 
country, the request was made that those 
who were born and bred in rural districts 
rise. The members stood upon their feet 
almost to a man. "It is evident," said the 
speaker, "that unless the country church 
is revived, our church will die out in the 
next generation." 

This book does not attempt to solve the 
problem of the country church. A loyal 
son whose ancestors long flourished in this 
parish has placed some exquisite jewel 
glass in the House of Worship — a commem- 
oration of the first six ministers who served 
our people. This praiseworthy act has 
made occasion for the writer to adventure 
into the past and meet these old-time par- 
sons and their friends in a social way. 
Such adventure has not only quickened a 
profound appreciation of the men and 
their mission, but it has likewise kindled a 

[vii] 



FOREWORD 

genuine enthusiasm for the country par- 
ish — its opportunities, its fascinations, its 
insistent obligations. The discursive pages 
which follow, picture life — a parson's life — 
in a typical New England parish dating 
back to pioneer days. The outcome of 
faithful generations — the fruit of earnest, 
consecrated labors — is perpetuated today 
by the service of men eminent in the great 
field of public action as well as by the 
places and institutions that adorn the 
venerable parish which cherishes the mem- 
ory of these honored people. There are 
many country parishes whose record of 
service will prove to be an inspiration. 
May the reader catch something of the 
spirit which has revealed itself in happy 
devotion to the life which enriches these 
great fields of promise. 

F. S. C. 



[ viii] 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

I Land and Sea 1 

II The FmsT Parson in Town 13 

III A Lover of Men and Books 26 

IV One of the Ten to Found a College . . 37 
V A Famous Controversialist 50 

VI The Scholar in War-time 65 

VII A Day with Doctor D wight on Greenfield 

Hill 77 

VIII Family Trees in the Parish 95 

IX Pastor and College President .... 112 

X The Muse of History 129 

XI Happy Summer Guests 144 

Xn An Episode of War 159 

XIII Monumental Bricks and Books .... 174 

XIV The Parson's Inheritance 190 

XV A Parish Garden and Its Story . . . .219 

XVI The Charms of a Rural Pastorate . . . 238 



[ix] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 



LAND AND SEA 

In the order of this quiet narrative, I must 
give first place to a description of the 
parish which makes the setting of these 
pictures. 

The Prime Ancient Society was a name 
given by our Puritan forefathers to many 
of these early parishes, a name dignified 
and historic, speaking straight to the 
imagination. Primacy, antiquity — on this 
" rock-bound coast " — the glamour of senti- 
ment is evoked and fancy throws pictures 
athwart the vision. Quaint costumes, 
staid manners, sober looks, a formal style 
of address, log cabins, endless forests, 
little fields of Indian corn, the squat, 
crude meeting-house, long prayers and 
longer sermons, the shrill cry of the 
panther and the blood-curdling war whoop 
of the Indian, wilderness struggles and 
triumphs — these are things which the 
2 [1] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

conjuror brings vividly before us by the 
strange magic of a few words. 

When Roger Ludlow settled our town 
in 1639, there was no preacher immedi- 
ately available, but John Jones came to 
the Prime Ancient Society in 1644 and 
stayed until death parted him from the 
parish; the four succeeding ministers 
served a life period, each dying in the har- 
ness — the sum total of their pastoral years 
attaining the number one hundred and 
sixty -one. 

They were stalwart hearts — the first 
settlers, men of considerable substance, 
more than a fair degree of education — 
sincere and earnest in their convictions — 
like Abram lifting up their eyes to fair 
prospects, responsive to the high demands 
of circumstances, purposeful, self-reliant 
and obedient to the heavenly vision. The 
parish soon assumed a character reflect- 
ing the spirit, manhood, service of these 
worthy, unique pioneers. 



For many years Fairfield was the shire 
town, an attractive center of social ac- 
tivity, third or fourth in relative impor- 
tance among the early settlements of the 

[2] 



LAND AND SEA 

colony. Law, trade, fishery, commerce, 
farming, manufactures throve apace, and 
then one day the drift set in other direc- 
tions; there was a better harbor five 
miles to the east and in 1779 a calamitous 
fire, the scathe and fury of British assault, 
swept over the village, devouring every 
kind of structure, leaving less than half a 
dozen homes unconsumed. It was many 
years before the little county capital 
regained anything like its former pros- 
perity and by that time a lively, indus- 
trious, enterprising city had grown up by 
its side which a few years later claimed 
the court, the county buildings and all the 
galaxy of legal luminaries accustomed to 
shine in the small firmament of local fame. 
So the prestige and importance of the 
place waned and the days of glory seemed 
at an end. 

It is the same story of change repeated 
in many a New England town. Business, 
social life and higher institutions of learn- 
ing gravitate to the city. The village 
struggles to hold its own for a few years 
and then resigns itself to a sort of living on 
the past — an atmosphere of antique gen- 
tility perchance still lingering in the neigh- 
borhood, or more likely the neighborhood 

[3] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

assumes an aspect of decadence, the origi- 
nal settlers chiefly remembered by some 
name given to a crossroads, a schoolhouse, 
a hill-top highway, or other old landmark. 

There were other changes which made 
serious drain upon the Prime Ancient 
Society. Five daughter churches swarmed 
from the mother hive, and each swarming 
caused many a heartache, for they not 
only weakened the home parish but parted 
families asunder, broke up old-time inti- 
mate Sabbath fraternization, created new 
interests and something of rivalry, and 
pointed to the fact that the dear, vener- 
able town might soon become an anach- 
ronism. 

This atmosphere of disheartening tran- 
sition necessarily fostered a spirit of unrest 
among the young men. They were driven 
west to seek their fortune or they brought 
up in the nearby metropolis where oppor- 
tunity greeted them with open hand. 

We must not forget, however, one favor- 
able, mitigating sign of the times. The 
ambitious boys who launched their little 
crafts upon the open sea of adventure a 
generation gone or more recall the sweet, 
bright days of youth. Some snatch of 
song, a long-treasured memento of school 

[4] 



LAND AND SEA 

days, the picture of an old homestead, a 
happy family reunion revives the past, 
awakens a great, surging love of the streets, 
the trees. Beach Lane, Round Hill, the 
village Green, the fitful waves chasing 
each other along the sinuous sea-shore, 
and then comes a glad return, the home- 
stead is restored, acres upon acres are 
added to the estate, a freshened interest 
in town and state and in church and 
society bursts into flame. The generous 
prospered patriot builds new macadam 
roads and presents them to the public, 
erects a monumental high-school building, 
drains the ponds and the marshes, puts 
up a noble library edifice, adorns the Green 
with a beautiful fountain, — does any of a 
hundred things which signify loyalty to 
precious memories and an inspiration to 
coming ages. 

A host of generous, noble men and 
women are giving love and treasure in 
this restoration of many a New England 
town — imparting fresh hope and courage 
to struggling workmen, planting the seeds 
of a vigorous, fruitful intelligence, con- 
tributing untold spiritual wealth to the 
country parish. May the host increase! 

[51 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

May their good deeds be like the sands 
upon our shores for number! 



On the crest of the beach is a little copse 
— a half acre of scraggy plum trees, choke 
cherries and mixed wild shrubbery, haunted 
by brown threshers in May time. The 
songsters play hide and seek amid the 
fresh, green foliage — ^perching now and 
again on certain favorite boughs — deli- 
cious melodies gushing from their throats 
with sweet and enviable spontaneity, an 
overflow of care-free, joyous life. 

The man who cherishes the friendship of 
Nature is always winning some, tender, 
significant refrain borne to him on the 
wings of the wind as he lingers along the 
sands, rests under the shade of the trees 
or climbs the mountain trail or flings him- 
self flat upon the lush young grass. Nature 
is songful and enchanting — the air is filled 
with strains of music infinitely varied, 
woven into perfect harmony by the brood- 
ing Spirit. 

Happy the man who living in the coun- 
try lives up to his matchless privileges. 
The time comes when he awakens to a pro- 
found sense of ministering grace in sun- 

161 



LAND AND SEA 

shine and trees, glorious clouds, jubilant 
birds and merry crickets, restful verdure 
of fields, endless patches of flowers and 
resounding sea. 

The friendship of men does not neces- 
sarily find its most congenial soil in coun- 
try life. Love flourishes amid all ranks, 
places and conditions for **love is the life 
of men." But there is something in rural 
atmosphere — its frankness, leisure and 
invigoration — something in the amplitude 
and serenity of fields and woods, wide, 
shaded streets and witchery of pleasant 
associations which works upon mind and 
heart so that one gets close to his fellow, 
the inmost spirit gives intimations of its 
character; and if aflSnity exists friendship 
bursts into bloom and freights the air with 
fragrance. 

"A friend is worth all hazards we can 
run." And these noble intimacies are 
tenderly fostered by the kindly moods and 
sweet uplifting oflSces of Nature. What 
hours of heart interchange came to David 
and Jonathan in the gladness and liberty 
of the "open fields." How trees, flowers, 
birds — the placid lake and the encompass- 
ing hills enriched the friendship of Words- 
worth and his sister, Coleridge and Southey 

[7] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

— the little circle of Lake poets ! Is it true 
— as Emerson says — that friendship "re- 
quires more time than poor busy man can 
usually command"? Let us retire into 
the quiet and simplicity of rural life, be 
friends and make friends! 

It is also granted the country parson to 
take the elect books of all ages into the 
chosen, quiet realm of rural sojourn and 
there live the life of an exalted spirit in 
constant fraternity with the good and 
the great — Moses, Job, David, John, Paul, 
makers of Old Testament and New Testa- 
ment literature — Homer, ^Eschylus, Plato 
and the builders of Greek letters — Virgil, 
Plutarch, Dante, Shakespeare, Milton and 
their noble peers. Is he not cultivated 
and well-equipped who daily adds to his 
school training the enrichment and inspira- 
tion afforded by these wise and immortal 
leaders? What matters it that he does 
not put upon his study table the endless 
succession of new books — the tiresome 
number of latest periodicals! He has all 
the more time to converse with the chosen 
and faithful comrades who guide to the 
loftiest heights. 

"The true end of learning," says Milton, 
"is to repair the ruin of our first parents 

[8] 



LAND AND SEA 

by regaining to know God." So the friend- 
ship of books comes into life — a friendship 
whose praises cannot be sung too often or 
too long. "There is a priceless grandeur 
in every human being," says Frederick 
Maurice. Literature "seeks to awaken 
the sense of it." The country presents 
quiet and leisure for study, meditation 
and loving familiarity with the masters. 

And this vital, enfranchising friendship 
with books, which may be cultivated to 
the heart's content by the worker who 
orders his hours of labor in the largeness of 
rural freedom, enables one to fill his store- 
house with the vast wisdom riches of all 
time and walk in perpetual goodly com- 
pany through every highway and byway of 
the land. 

"What thou seest," says Carlyle, "is 
not there on its own account; strictly 
speaking is not there at all. Matter exists 
only spiritually and to represent some 
idea and body it forth." A deepened 
consciousness of the Unseen Presence is 
our heritage. In the volume of Lowell's 
Letters the poet describes one of these 
supreme evidential experiences: "I never 
before so clearly felt the Spirit of God in 
me and around me. The air seemed to 

19] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

waver to and fro with the presence of 
Something I knew not what." 

But these experiences do not come in 
crowded streets or the mad rush of the 
strenuous career. The friendship of the 
All-Father is best cultivated apart from 
the search and curiosity of men. The 
Master withdrew how many times into the 
privacy of hillside and wilderness that he 
might find himself and God. Has not 
Sidney Lanier put it into exquisite verse? 

"Into the woods my Master went 
Clean forespent, forespent. 
Into the woods my Master came 
Forespent with love and shame. 
But the olives, they were not blind to Him, 
The little gray leaves were kind to Him, 
The thorn tree had a mind to Him 
When into the woods He came." 

"Out of the woods my Master went. 
And He was well content. 
Out of the woods my Master came 
Content with death and shame. 
When death and shame would woo Him last 
From under the trees they drew Him last 
'T was on a tree they slew Him last 
When out of the woods He came." 

Life in Ur of the Chaldees did not con- 
duce to the higher knowledge — the knowl- 
edge of the Eternal — so Abram went forth 

fioi 



LAND AND SEA 

a pilgrim to live in the magnificent open 
and sleep beneath the tell-tale stars and 
learn the mysteries of the Unseen through 
the Voices that sounded sweet and clear 
from pasture-lands, mountain-tops and 
adown the valleys. 

Driving tasks, the fret of innumerable 
duties, the pressure of public burden and 
private demand not only sap vitality but 
reduce hours to petty, disjointed fragments. 

"Come apart into a desert place and 
rest awhile." This means a cultivation of 
the higher friendships; and the country 
with its beauty, spaciousness and manifold 
parables of life — the country with its mani- 
fest presence of the living, reigning God — 
recent science "positively affirms creative 
power and makes one feel a miracle in him- 
self" says Lord Kelvin — the country with 
its fruitful leisure and alluring opportuni- 
ties, speaks to the sensitive spirit hope- 
fully, inspiringly in respect to the great 
friendships which dignify and perfect man. 

So the mind's eye sees a quiet home 
embowered in vines, trees, shrubbery and 
a lawn restful and alluring with its velvet 
turf and old-fashioned flowers. The gar- 
den lies half hidden behind the privet 
hedge that sets it in luxuriant framing at 

[111 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

the rear. There is a bit of pasture and 
meadow with orchard extending down a 
gentle slope. All the domestic activities 
prosper amid favorable surroundings. The 
low of cattle, a drowsy hum of bees, chil- 
dren's voices and the infinite medley of 
summer days — the sound of hoe or scythe, 
the singing of birds, blithe speech of winds 
in restless trees and merry chatter of 
familiar squirrels peeping down from rank 
foliage — the mind's eye holds the picture 
and a sense of tranquillity possesses the 
soul. 



1121 



n 

THE FIRST PARSON IN TOWN 

The Reverend John Jones, first minister 
of the Prime Ancient Society in Fairfield, 
was one of the Puritan brethren "harried" 
out of the mother country by Archbishop 
Laud. He sailed from Gravesend August 
10th, 1635, in the ship Defence, among 
his fellow-passengers being three other 
Church of England clergymen driven from 
their benefices. The Reverend Thomas 
Shepard was settled over the church at 
Cambridge. 

"His name and office sweetly did agree, 
Shepard by name and in his ministry." 

The Reverend John Wilson was the second 
comrade in exile. He organized the church 
at Charlestown and later associated with 
John Cotton as Teacher in the church at 
Boston. It was he who, in the heat of 
political discussion when Winthrop was 
candidate for governor, climbed a tree and 
earnestly urged the people to vote for his 
friend and fellow-laborer. The third cleri- 

[13] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

cal exile accompanying Mr. Jones was the 
Reverend Hugh Peters who took charge 
of the Salem church for a brief period and 
then returned to England to pursue a 
remarkable career in the army of Parlia- 
ment. At Cromwell's funeral he walked 
beside the honored poet John Milton. He 
was arrested for complicity in the death 
of Charles I, condemned, executed, and 
his head set upon a pole on London Bridge. 

Doubtless these men engaged in much 
learned discourse during their voyage to 
the new world and encouraged each other 
with high hopes and bright prophecies. 

Mr. Jones with a company of friends 
adventured into the wilderness as far as 
Concord, where he assisted Reverend Peter 
Bulkley in the pastoral care of the first 
church — being set apart by re-ordination 
with his colleague to this new work. But 
a restless spirit possessed him, and after 
a few years' activity among the brethren 
of Concord he gathered his friends about 
him and migrated into the wilderness, arriv- 
ing at Fairfield in the season of 1644. A 
letter which he wrote to his good friend, 
the Worshipful Mr. John Winthrop, dated 
March 5th, 1646-47, shows that restlessness 
still possessed him: 

114] 



THE FIRST PARSON IN TOWN 

"St, Yors of Feb. 22 I received, being very sorrye yt my 
absence from home at ye time when yor messenger came 
hither, hath deprived of soe fit an opportunity of returning 
an answeare. I perceue by yt letter yt Adam, ye Indian 
hath informed yow how ye case stands with me. And 
indeed I, despairing of a convenient passage vnto yow 
before spring, did engage myself to keepe a lecture here 
vntiU ye season of ye yeare would permit me to remouve 
soe that my engagements here being ended with the winter, 
it is my desire & full resolution, if God permit, to take ye 
first opportunity of coming to yow, either by land or water. 
For other passages in yr letter, I hope to answeare them 
by word of mouth shortly. In ye meantime, I desire yr 
praires for ye guidance of heawen, & with my seruise & 
respects being duly rendered to yraelfe & Mrs. Winthrope, 
with love to al ye little ones & little Margaret, I remaine 
Yors in all observance 

John Joanes " 

It appears that Mr. Jones was inclined to 
visit his friend the Worshipful John Win- 
throp and possibly make his permanent 
abode at Pequot or in that neighborhood. 
But the need of service in Fairfield pressed 
heavily upon his heart, temporalities were 
satisfactorily adjusted and Mr. Jones 
remained in this parish to the day of his 
death. 

It is not difficult to draw a pen-portrait 
of this man, although the material is scant. 

We see first the young student coming 
up from his beloved Wales to attend the 
University. He will prepare himself for 

[151 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

high service as a scholar and clergyman, 
following the example of his reverend 
father, his fountain head of spiritual im- 
pulse. The work finished at Jesus College 
Oxford, he is Episcopally ordained to the 
ministry. The questioning mind, however, 
breeds dissent, controversy, antagonism in 
respect to the established order. The 
young scholar is caught in the swirl of 
opposition and non-conformity. Con- 
science will not allow him to obey the com- 
mands of his bishop. He casts in his lot 
with the men who seek to purify the 
methods and practices of the church. He 
is driven from home, friends, native land, 
and made to brave the sea, the wilderness 
and pioneer deprivation. 

We must remember that Mr. Jones and 
many of his compatriots loved the Church 
of England. They were children of a 
mother most dear and precious. The break 
between mother church and these devout 
children was one of the saddest and most 
pathetic incidents in the history of our 
religion. Viewed in the light of these 
times — when divergences of opinion are 
frankly tolerated and respected, when diver- 
sities of method occasion friendly comment, 
viewed in the light of these later times 

[16] 



THE FIRST PARSON IN TOWN 

such a break and conflict evokes sorrow 
and amazement inexpressible. Why should 
these devout, high-minded churchmen be- 
come the objects of such assault? Why 
did this spirit of unwonted cruelty and 
harshness strike them? Alas for our poor, 
human nature, blind, proud, self-willed, 
opinionated, using religion itself as a chan- 
nel for passionate speech and action ! The 
break ought never to have occurred — the 
children should never have been driven 
from mother church — kindliness, tolerance, 
charity and all Christian forbearance might 
have reigned in the hearts of all concerned 
and the world saved from much bitterness, 
misery, anguish and desolation. But the 
king and the church did persecute these 
non-conforming Puritans and Separatists. 
And these harried champions of a pure 
faith bade a mournful farewell to loved, 
familiar scenes and adventured into a 
hostile wilderness beyond the sea. 

The exchange of the old for the new was 
one of those great transitional movements 
whose meaning and importance time alone 
reveals. 

The associates of Mr. Jones were people 
of culture and standing. Many of them 
had graduated at Oxford or Cambridge. 

3 [17 1 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

They brought with them books, precious 
mementoes and souvenirs of gentility, the 
impulses and aspirations of the best English 
society. Ludlow the founder of Fairfield 
was one of the most intelligent and culti- 
vated men — a lawyer of great merit, a 
scholar in jurisprudence, aggressive, adven- 
turous, masterful. He had gathered into 
his company a goodly number of congenial 
people, moved by a like spirit of lofty pur- 
pose and noble hopefulness. 

We think of these men and women as 
separated from the sweet intercourse of 
high-toned English fellowship — as shut 
away from university privileges and the 
means of education and refinement peculiar 
to old England; but let us not forget that 
they brought with them the fruits of such 
life and that their associations among 
themselves conserved that spirit which 
bloomed in the form of Harvard College, 
the common school, the grammar school, 
and the Christian Church with its open 
Bible and learned ministry. Theology, 
literature, history (the adventures of Cap- 
tain Cook and John Smith) the science of 
the day, the ordinary practises and obser- 
vations of men skilled in farming, naviga- 
tion, mechanics — these and kindred things 

[18] 



THE FIRST PARSON IN TOWN 

were familiar to them. It was a commu- 
nity of select and high grade ability, all the 
evidences of worth, station, property, cul- 
ture manifesting themselves on every side. 

But it was a narrow life which these 
people were forced to live. Governor 
Ludlow might discuss the problems sug- 
gested by the new Code which he prepared 
for the little colony of Connecticut, the 
Rev. Thomas Hooker and Mr. John Win- 
throp might advise with Mr. Jones upon 
the questions which agitated the Cam- 
bridge Synod, Major Gold might contrast 
the tone of John Milton's poetry with that 
of William Shakespeare, Cotton Mather's 
prolific pen might invite frequent comment 
in the neighborhood, comets, storms, Indian 
assault and Dutch annoyance might serve 
as perpetual topics of conversation so 
that society would never stagnate — never- 
theless the life was inevitably restricted, 
and a man of leadership, education, 
exalted ideals like Mr. Jones revealed a 
grand spirit of self-sacrifice, a fine, true 
spirit of loyalty to principle in committing 
himself to the upbuilding of church and 
people. 

Communication with the river settle- 
ments, with New Haven, Stamford and 

[19] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

Boston was not frequent, but mail and 
messengers passed back and forth with 
sufficient frequency to unify the Hfe in 
respect to religion, self-defense and social 
fraternity. Mr. Jones entered heartily 
into the customary pursuits and obligations. 
He was a farmer by virtue of the town 
grant of land, — the parsonage settlement 
and glebe being one portion of this grant. 
He was foremost in organization and over- 
sight of the school. All local problems and 
conditions shared his thought. 

His intimacy with Roger Ludlow reminds 
us of the trials to which the impulsive, 
irascible, learned statesman was subjected. 
At threescore and four years of age Ludlow 
withdrew from the scene of his arduous, 
pioneer struggles and returned to his native 
land. He was a kinsman of Sir Edmund 
Ludlow — at one time Lieutenant-General 
of Cromwell's forces in Ireland. In 1654 
he was appointed with other eminent law- 
yers to serve on a commission "to deter- 
mine all claims in and to forfeited lands in 
Ireland." The Ludlow family were friends 
of Cromwell and doubtless Roger Ludlow 
was invited to return to his home country 
by the Lord Protector with the hope that 
he might render eminent service to the 

[20] 



THE FIRST PARSON IN TOWN 

cause. Cromwell desired to bring back 
many New England emigrants and estab- 
lish them in Ireland. It is remarkable 
that so few responded to the overtures of 
the great leader. 

Ludlow, it will be remembered, did not 
leave Fairfield under the most agreeable 
circumstances. The suit for defamation 
of Mrs. Staples' character was impending 
at the time of his departure. 

Goody Knapp had been executed for 
witchcraft in 1653. In the suit against 
Ludlow it came out that Goody Knapp 
had told him that "Goodwife Staples was 
a witch." He repeated this accusation 
confidentially to Rev. John Davenport and 
wife of New Haven and like numerous 
other confidences reposed in people it was 
scattered broadcast. The charge against 
Ludlow was to the effect that Mrs. Staples 
"had laid herself under new suspicion of 
being a witch," that "she had gone on in 
a tract of lying." The judges found against 
him and imposed a fine of ten pounds 
"by way of fine for reparation" with five 
pounds additional for "trouble and charge 
in following the suit." 

Mrs. Staples was indicted for witchcraft 
several years later with various other un- 

1211 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

popular members of the community. Both 
Mistress Knapp and Mistress Staples had 
the sympathy and pastoral instruction of 
Mr. Jones. Like Governor Ludlow and 
many fellow citizens the shepherd of the 
flock was a believer in this strange delusion, 
albeit his kindness of heart and liberality 
of faith prompted him to do what lay in 
his power for the mitigation of the terror 
which prevailed. One of the severest 
trials in Mr. Jones' ministry came when 
Goody Knapp was convicted of witchcraft 
and sentenced to be hanged. It fell to his 
lot to minister consolation to her in the 
last days and to prepare her for death. It is 
sad reading, the testimony given in the 
case. So far as we are able to judge, this 
woman merited the compassion and forbear- 
ance of people. When pressed to reveal any 
knowledge of witch- work in the community, 
the popular mind being directed toward 
Mistress Staples, Goody Knapp had replied 
that she "must not say anything which is 
not true," she "must not wrong anybody." 
Her spirit flamed with indignation when 
on the way to the scaffold some one shouted 
to her that the devil would have her quick 
if she didn't reveal what she knew. " Take 
heed," was her reply, "the devil have 

[22] 



THE FIRST PARSON IN TOWN 

not you, I cannot tell how soon you may be 
my companion." 

Poor, storm-tossed souls, weary, fright- 
ened, harassed, pinched with the poverty 
caused by small crops and much sickness, 
taught by superstitious Europe and pagan 
America that witches killed cattle and 
blighted harvests and crippled or destroyed 
unfortunate people, what tragical condi- 
tions prevailed and how difficult it was to 
breast the current of common fear and 
prejudice! 

There are few personal glimpses given 
of Mr. Jones, but the pen-portrait is dis- 
tinct and lifelike. A pioneer with all the 
faith, earnestness and bravery of the typical 
Puritan minister, he was domestic in his 
taste and blessed with six children who 
attained maturity, the two sons becoming 
faithful and beloved preachers. A learned 
and thoughtful man with a scholar's rever- 
ence for books, charitable and sympathetic 
in watchcare over the people, rugged, 
workful, respected, he commanded the 
good-will and confidence of townsmen and 
the universal esteem of his colonial co- 
workers throughout New England. Gover- 
nors, ministers, teachers — the elect of the 
land were his intimate friends. In May, 

f23l 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

1662, it was recommended by the General 
Court that the people of Fairfield engage 
an assistant for " their reverend and ancient 
minister, Mr. Jones." 

I suspect that there were not infrequent 
interruptions to the even tenor of his life 
on the edge of the town green. Almost in 
front of his house, diagonally across the 
sward stood the stocks and the whipping 
post — instruments of punishment put to 
service "without fear or favor." 

On the left of the parsonage property 
there was a pond, long known as the witch 
pond; for in this small body of water more 
than one person accused of consorting with 
the Blackman had been thrown by way of 
trial. It was here that Mercy Desborough 
and Elizabeth Clawson were subjected to 
the ordeal by water — a sinking the indica- 
tion of innocence, a floating the indication 
of guilt. It is said in respect to these two 
unfortunate women that "they buoyed up 
like cork" — conclusive evidence that they 
belonged to the witch fraternity. At the 
rear of Mr. Jones' homestead there extended 
a wolf-infested marshy piece of wilderness. 
Black bears, wild-cats and Indians likewise 
emerged on occasion from the ghostly 
recesses of this dark, mysterious region. 

[24] 



THE FIRST PARSON IN TOWN 

It was even claimed that the witches made 
a rendezvous of the place and there hatched 
their nefarious mischief for the community. 

It required much faith and prayer on the 
part of the worthy pioneer to exorcise his 
particular domain and create a healthy, 
spiritual atmosphere such as was mete for 
a Christian minister and his people. 

The rugged, hopeful adventurer, "being 
weak of body but of perfect memory," 
having crossed the line of threescore years 
and ten, laid him down to rest in 1664, 
dividing his considerable property equi- 
tably among the members of his family 
and leaving to his people a heritage of 
honest, loyal service in behalf of colony 
and kingdom. 



125] 



Ill 

A LOVER OF MEN AND BOOKS 

It was during the period of Mr. Jones' 
physical dechne that his friend Governor 
John Winthrop made his remarkable voy- 
age to England; he there obtained from 
King Charles II the democratic Charter 
which gave Connecticut a government 
lasting until the adoption of the new con- 
stitution in 1818. The wise, courteous 
Winthrop — the diplomatic, cultivated 
Winthrop — the handsome, tactful Win- 
throp won a great victory and put the 
colony of Connecticut under peculiar obli- 
gations by this eventful service. The 
little republic — for Connecticut was prac- 
tically a republic — enjoyed rare liberty 
of thought and freedom of action politically. 
Meanwhile one of her young men had 
been pursuing his studies at college pre- 
paratory to such field as Providence might 
indicate. In 1655 several students made 
trouble at Harvard in respect to the length 
of time required for residence at the college 
in order to obtain the Bachelor of Arts 

[26 1 



A LOVER OF MEN AND BOOKS 

degree, so that, as Sibley records it, 
"though they were accounted as good as 
any before them" they went off "and 
never took any degree at all." The his- 
torian continues — "There were at least 
five of them who after made a very shining 
Figure in New England viz. : Gov. Josiah 
Winslow, the Rev. Mr. Samuel Torrey, 
the Rev. Mr. Ichabod Wiswell of Duxbury, 
agent for the Plymouth Colony at the 
Court of England upon the Revolution, 
the Rev. Mr. Samuel Wakeman of Fair- 
field, and the Rev. Mr. Brinsmead of 
Marlborough, who would all have been a 
great honor to our Harvard Catalogue." 

Samuel Wakeman was New Haven 
born, son of John, a prosperous adventurer 
and descendant of a long line of honorable 
English gentry. 

The will of John Wakeman, on file in 
the probate office of Hartford, has a pas- 
sage worth quoting: "First, I commend 
my soul into the hands of my Lord Jesus 
Christ my redeemer, trusting to be saved 
by his merits and intercession, and my 
body to be buried at the discretion of my 
executors and friends, in hope of a joyful 
resurrection; testifying my thankfulness 
for the free manifestion of his grace to me 

[271 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

in Christ, and for the liberty and fellow- 
ship vouchsafed me with his people in his 
ordinances in a Congregational way, which 
I take to be the way of Christ, orderly 
walked in according to his rules; but I do 
testify against absolute independency of 
churches, and perfection of any in light or 
acting, and against compulsion of con- 
science to concur with the church without 
inward satisfaction to conscience, and per- 
secuting such as dissent upon this ground, 
which I take to be an abuse of the power 
given for edification by Christ who is 
only Lord of the Conscience." 

Here is manifest a spirit of toleration 
and largeness of sympathy worthy of the 
twentieth century. And this Puritan 
adventurer is unconscious prophet of that 
broader and better organized Congrega- 
tionalism which the present generation 
aims to achieve. 

The son Samuel, inheriting his father's 
eagerness for knowledge and love of truth — 
stimulated likewise by the vigorous intel- 
lectual life of his mother, a daughter of 
Deputy-Governor Goodyear — struck into 
the wilderness path for Cambridge when he 
obtained proper equipment. They were 
long journeys back and forth between 

[28J 



A LOVER OF MEN AND BOOKS 

New Haven and Harvard College but he 
resolutely braved Indians, wild beasts and 
all perils of travel. 

There is a sense in which it proved no 
disadvantage to Mr. Wakeman that he 
failed to get his degree at Harvard. Busi- 
ness opened to him and he developed a 
thriftiness and practicality which served 
admirably in his later administration of 
affairs. He took "the oath of fidelity" 
February 7, 1657 — a fact recorded in the 
New Haven Colony Records. During 
these preparation years, while attending 
to business, books were by no means 
neglected. A scholar as well as a man of 
business, he learned to combine happily 
meditation and enterprise, theology and 
trade. 

His reputation as a young man of excel- 
lent scholarship and rare administrative 
abilities was known to the people of Fair- 
field. They considered themselves for- 
tunate to find a successor to Mr. Jones so 
well equipped and so popular. He entered 
upon his work in the parish the 30th of 
September, 1655. 

A man of kindly disposition, tolerant 
of others' opinions, seeking the things 
which make for peace, he found himself 

[29 1 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

in a position which afforded him rare oppor- 
tunity to exercise his pecuhar gifts. Now 
and again the people of the town and the 
colony chose him as their counsellor — 
their referee — their commissioner. In 
ecclesiastical matters and civil matters he 
acted a conspicuous part, bearing himself 
with discretion and dignity, discharging 
his various offices with satisfaction to pri- 
vate individuals and public institutions. 
When in 1668 the General Court requested 
several conspicuous and dependable minis- 
ters to meet together "to consider of some 
expedient for our peace, by searching out 
the rule and thereby clearing up how far 
the churches and people may walk together 
within themselves and at one with another 
in the fellowship and order of the Gospel, 
notwithstanding some various apprehen- 
sions among them in matters of discipline 
respecting membership and baptism," Mr. 
Wakeman was chosen as one member of 
this important commission and rendered 
acceptable service on the occasion. 

The first urgent and hearty religious 
zeal of the colonial planters had waned. 
Many of the original settlers had passed 
to their reward, their places being filled 
by sons who never knew the hardships of 

[301 



A LOVER OF MEN AND BOOKS 

persecution in the mother country. The 
inevitable reaction had set in, and spiritual 
life drooped . The election sermon preached 
on May 14th in Hartford by Mr. Wake- 
man shows the temperature of religion 
during this period. "Sound Repentance 
the Right Way to escape deserved Ruin" 
was his subject and the long discourse is 
addressed to the conditions of moral 
decadence which prevailed throughout 
New England. Mr. Wakeman had become 
"exceeding tremendously suspicious" that 
"christian defections and rampant, colonial 
sins" would invite the scourge of the 
Almighty to visit them. "New Eng- 
land's name hath been much set by; much 
more than now New England's credit and 
repute is brought many pegs lower." The 
courteous vote of thanks offered by the 
General Court for this frank and soul- 
stirring rebuke to the spirit of the times 
might awaken in us the hope that some- 
thing was done to save the colony from its 
threatened plunge into immorality and 
irreligion. 

A close view of the social life in the 
Connecticut of Mr. Wakeman's day dis- 
closes perplexing conditions. There was 
not only the reaction from early enthu- 

fsil 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

siasm, hopefulness and agitation over the 
theological and ecclesiastical problems of 
the day, but there were King Philip's war 
with its attendant perils, the sharp con- 
test in respect to the Charter granted by 
King Charles II, and the attempted 
wrenching of her liberties from the dem- 
ocratic people of the colony. There were 
seasons of great depression — seasons when 
a failure of crops moved the people to 
fast and pray — seasons when violent fevers 
raged up and down the coast. The text of 
Mr. Wakeman's Election sermon seems 
quite appropriate for the times. "Be 
thou instructed, O Jerusalem, lest my soul 
depart from thee; lest I make thee desolate, 
a land not inhabited." (Jer. vi: 8.) 

The generous, kindly spirit of Mr. Wake- 
man was finely illustrated in his attitude 
toward the people in the eastern part of 
the town when they desired to swarm and 
build another meeting-house. The major- 
ity of Fairfield citizens opposed this move- 
ment for separation. It would increase 
their taxes. But Mr. Wakeman believed 
that it was for the moral and intellectual 
improvement of people near the Pequon- 
nock to organize a new parish and insti- 
tute the ordinances of religion in that part 

[32] 



A LOVER OF MEN AND BOOKS 

of the town. This characteristic spirit of 
liberality and good-will made perpetual 
exhibition of itself and won for him a wide 
regard. 

The town in a bestowment of various 
grants and gifts evinced its cordial appre- 
ciation of Mr. Wakeman's services. And 
the industrious, far-sighted minister man- 
aged his property with such shrewdness 
that he became one of the most prosperous 
citizens of the vicinage. 

The inventory of his estate is an inter- 
esting document. A thousand pounds — 
the appraisal made by Thomas Hill, 
Nathan Gold, Jr., and Eliplmlet Hill — • 
constituted a very considerable heritage. 
There were swamp lands, pasture lots, 
wood lands, wolf swamp, Sasco fields. 
Round Hill acres, interest in the commons, 
the homestead lot with buildings, wheat 
lands, and several meadows — which shows 
that the minister was much engaged in 
farming. He had fifty sheep, numerous 
cattle, horses, pigs and bees. Tallow, 
honey, flax, shingles, corn, malt, wheat, 
tow yarn and homespun linen are reckoned 
among the items. The usual farm tools 
and carpenter's outfit had a place. Pots, 
kettles, kitchen utensils, elaborate bed- 

4 [38 1 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

room fixings, one set valued at thirteen 
pounds, looking-glasses, chests, parlor 
furniture, much pewter, numerous chairs 
and tables, table-linen and bedding with 
various necessary furnishings for comfort 
and elegance — these things are all care- 
fully enumerated and appraised. The 
wearing-apparel had evidently been well 
worn; no waste or extravagance in this 
department, although it was put at eleven 
pounds ! 

The item which seems most significant 
these days was the item of books. Liter- 
ature was a luxury. The home which 
possessed half a dozen volumes gained 
distinction. When a will or inventory 
used the word library it meant that here 
was an individual who had accumulated 
a large collection of valuable and standard 
works. The appraisal of this notable 
library was an important matter and Mr. 
Hanford, Mr. Walker and Mr. Chauncey — 
men associated with Mr. Wakeman in 
service — were asked to estimate their 
worth. Between fifty and sixty pounds 
was a very large sum to spend on books; 
but this was the appraisal, frank testi- 
mony to the culture and scholarship of the 
revered man. 

[34] 



A LOVER OF MEN AND BOOKS 

I have no doubt that many of these 
books passed freely among the brethren 
of western Connecticut. Mr. Hanford 
would fasten a plump volume to his saddle 
or slip it into a capacious pocket and fol- 
low the shore road to Norwalk, resting a 
little under the shade of a tree and improv- 
ing the moment by reading a few pages 
of Milton or Mather or some other Puritan 
writer. Mr. Chauncey, in whose veins 
flowed the blood of scholars, must often 
have borrowed the precious treasures 
which he had the privilege of appraising. 
The fact that he loved books and these 
particular books must have given him a 
sort of heartache when engaged in this 
friendly examination. The library of Mr. 
Wakeman, one of the largest in New Eng- 
land, was willed to his son Jabesh, a book- 
loving member of the family, who was "to 
be brought up in learning," and sent to 
college. A Bible was willed to each child. 

The good man gave his Indian servant, 
Jane, her liberty with five pounds in money. 
There was also a bequest to the Grammar 
school and one of three pounds to Captain 
John Burr for the purchase of a silver bowl 
to be presented to the church ; this precious 
piece of silver continues to serve its sacred 

[35] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

purposes in the communion of the Lord's 
supper. 

An efficient and well beloved minister, 
Mr. Wakeman guided the parish through 
various difficulties, making a happy record 
of genial, prosperous, beneficent citizenship. 
It was creditable to be a successful farmer. 
His fame as general administrator extended 
far and wide. He attained enviable repu- 
tation as a collector of books. As friend, 
companion, adviser there were few men 
in the colony who stood higher in public 
regard. But his chief honor, delight and 
accomplishment was in the sphere of pas- 
toral service; he was an all-around man 
who knew his people, who taught, lived 
and illustrated the "Good-News" of the 
kingdom. 



[86J 



IV 

ONE OF THE TEN TO FOUND A COLLEGE 

The Fairfield Historical Society preserves 
among its valuable papers the sermon 
preached by the Rev. Joseph Webb on the 
Sunday following the death of Major 
Nathan Gold. It is a commemorative 
discourse although the name of the "Emi- 
nent and Worshipful" citizen is not men- 
tioned and the sermon contains no bio- 
graphical sketch of the gentleman. 

Mr. Webb expatiated upon **The Social 
Values of Character." The sermon was 
long — extraordinarily long — so that it was 
divided into two parts. The First Doc- 
trine as it was termed filled the morning 
hours of worship. This was on the fourth 
of March, 1694. At the conclusion of this 
morning service the congregation with- 
drew to their nearby homes or to the little 
Sabbath day houses which stood near the 
meeting-house. Having warmed them- 
selves and eaten their frugal mid-day lunch, 
the congregation returned to the meeting- 
house and listened attentively to the 

[37] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

Second Doctrine which extended into the 
late afternoon. 

When Major Gold was buried the minis- 
ter conducted no religious service over his 
body — the prevailing custom of the parish. 
Summoned by the sound of horn, friends 
gathered at the home of the deceased, 
placed the coflSn with its heavy pall upon 
the common bier and then marched sol- 
emnly to the place of burial. It was a 
dumb, cold farewell. Why should prayers 
be used for the dead or over the dead, 
inquired our protesting ancestors .^^ What- 
ever religious ceremony was associated 
with such an event naturally came on the 
Lord's Day. But even then the minister 
was chary of eulogistic words — the lesson 
of a life being set forth preferably by infer- 
ence and impersonal instruction. 

So this ancient manuscript, written upon 
small sheets of yellow paper, closely written 
so that the reader was obliged to hold the 
paper high in hand, compactly written 
since paper was a rare and expensive com- 
modity — this ancient manuscript with its 
clear, regular, handsome penmanship intro- 
duces its author, the third pastor of the 
Prime Ancient Society — a man in the 
vigor and hopefulness of his early, happy 

[381 



FOUND A COLLEGE 

labors. If that fourth day of March was 
hke the average March weather of colonial 
winters, the footstoves and the hot round 
cobblestones must have been especially 
welcome to the shivering women and chil- 
dren. 

The young man who pronounced this 
suggestive discourse proved by its deHvery 
that he was a minister of excellent promise. 
The sermon has peculiar value for the later 
generations in that it emphasizes the 
worth of Mr. Webb and Major Nathan 
Gold and at the same time is a sort of win- 
dow through which we gaze upon scenes 
passing before us two hundred years ago. 

The Webb family held an honorable 
position in the colony of Massachusetts. 
This branch of the old stock did not possess 
any large abundance of worldly gear so 
that when Joseph entered Harvard at the 
early age of fourteen, he matriculated with 
the expectation that the institution would 
remit a portion of his bills. The boy was 
a lively lad and living in the neighborhood 
of Boston he had seen something of life 
and had imbibed ideas that seemed "ad- 
vanced" for those staid times. In return 
for the help or pension granted him, the 
boy promised to do certain work connected 

[39 1 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

with the institution — a fair exchange under 
the circumstances. 

Remember that he was only a stripling 
of fifteen in his sophomore year — in the 
sophomore year when boys come into a 
certain enviable self-importance and asser- 
tive leadership. Remember that he was 
not a puny, spiritless, inoffensive lad, but a 
fellow of fire and passion, eager, boisterous, 
irrepressible with a predilection for fun and 
frolic, noisy and sometimes mischievous. 
So trouble beset him. For he showed an 
exacting and vexatious spirit toward the 
freshmen. The unfortunate boy who did fag 
service for Webb — they followed the Eng- 
lish practises and had fags, those days in 
Cambridge — did not please his master, who 
poured out vials of wrath upon the sub- 
ordinate. The result was serious and pain- 
ful to Joseph Webb. His conduct became 
a matter of public notoriety. His hard- 
ness of heart in respect to freshmen 
attracted the attention of the college 
faculty, in consequence of which fact his 
college Hfe suddenly halted. The History 
of Harvard states the case in these words: 
"Whereas great complaints have been 
made and proved against Joseph Webb for 
his abusive carriages in requiring some of 

[40] 



FOUND A COLLEGE 

the freshmen to go upon his private errands 
and in striking such freshmen, and for his 
scandallous negligence to those duties .... 
he is therefore sentenced in the first place 
to be deprived of the pension heretofore 
allowed him and also to be expelled the 
college." 

Alas, for poor, stricken Joseph Webb! 
What a sad and serious affair ! And thrice 
alas for his wounded and amazed parents! 
Their straitened circumstances gave poig- 
nancy to the family grief and misery. 

I have no doubt that the family circle 
felt as if the heavens had fallen upon them. 
A young life, full of promise, seemed for- 
ever blasted. 

But Joseph was not the boy to be pushed 
one side by such an event. He thought 
out the matter and bravely faced the situa- 
tion. He must right the wrong done and 
square himself with the reverend authori- 
ties of Harvard: "I do with grief and sor- 
row humbly acknowledge these my great 
offences and the justice of your proceed- 
ings against me for them," he writes, "and 
crave pardon and pray that I may be re- 
stored unto my former standing in the 
college, promising unto it labor and dili- 
gence in my study and most dutiful obser- 

[41] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

vance of all college laws and orders for the 
time to come." 

Such manly confession and purpose to 
regain an honorable stand pleased the 
gentlemen managing the affairs of Harvard 
and the boy was speedily readmitted. He 
graduated with his classmates, after com- 
pleting a full course of study. 

It was not the custom in those days to 
induct young men fresh from the college 
curriculum into the high office of minister. 
The candidates often busied themselves 
for a considerable period in trade or labor 
of a secular kind while engaged in further 
reading and preparation for the ministry. 
Mr. Webb graduated from college in 1684 
but he was not installed pastor in Fair- 
field until 1694. His legible penmanship 
appears on the fly leaf of one of the eight 
books of record belonging to the Prime 
Ancient Society. "This Booke of Records 
belongs to ye Church of Christ in Fair- 
field of which I am pastor. Joseph Webb. 
Bought in ye year 1704. Cost 6 shillings 
eight pence in money — paid for by ye 
Church." 

Two important movements in the colony 
occurred early in the ministry of Mr. Webb. 
The first was the founding of Yale College. 

[42] 



FOUND A COLLEGE 

No one felt the need of better facilities for 
education in Connecticut more than did 
this son of Harvard. The long journey 
through wilderness or by sea taxed the 
purse and endurance of the student. The 
time had come to provide an institution in 
the prosperous colony which might repeat 
in this region the important service ren- 
dered by Harvard to Massachusetts. So 
on the appointed day Mr. Webb met the 
other nine wise projectors of Yale and 
donated his small gift for the founding and 
endowment of a college. That was a day 
of small beginnings but a day which links 
the name of Webb and all the company 
with the honored university which has 
contributed so generously to Christian 
civilization in America and the far east. 

During the formative years of the 
school Mr. Webb continued his active 
interest in its affairs, serving until the day 
of his death on the Corporation and helping 
as opportunity presented itself in establish- 
ing and upbuilding the college. 

The second important event of the times 
was the meeting for the formulating of the 
Saybrooke Platform and the later meetings 
for the organization of the various Conso- 
ciations. Into the discussion of questions 

[431 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

bearing upon the readjustment of ecclesi- 
astical relations Mr. Webb threw himself 
with his accustomed zeal. When the Fair- 
field Consociation was formed at Stratfield 
in 1709 he contributed his wit and wisdom 
to what was termed the Fairfield Interpre- 
tation of the new Platform. A conserva- 
tive of conservatives, he stood firmly for 
the high church idea and preached the 
doctrine with consistent fidelity. 

During the pastorate of Mr. Webb an 
incident occurred in the parish which 
graphically illustrates the prevalent feeling 
against the Quakers. Two preachers of 
the proscribed sect were journeying through 
Connecticut propagating their views. It 
happened that they reached Fairfield on a 
day when the churches of the region were 
holding a fellowship meeting with the 
brethren of the Prime Ancient Society. 
(The narrative is told in a manuscript 
detailing the journey of Roger Gill and 
Thomas Story in the year 1698.) There 
were "seven priests" present and "abun- 
dance of people." The numerous company 
appeared to the two Quaker brothers a 
providential invitation to discourse con- 
cerning their peculiar tenets. "So up to 
their meeting we went, but went not in 

[44] 



FOUND A COLLEGE 

until ye singing of their song was over, 
then in we went, and up toward ye pulpit 
I went, Thomas foulling of me. I looked 
stidfastly up to ye pulpit wher were 5 
preests sitting and two sat below." 

Roger Gill and his associate listened 
respectfully to the sermon. "Poore man, 
to give him his dew, he mad it with no 
small labor, as wel as with no littel terer; 
for he drove it on like Pharoah's Charats 
whilees very heavily." At the conclusion 
of the "preests" "sarmint," Roger Gill 
climbed upon the bench and attempted 
to address the people. But "down came 
ye preests, out of ye pulpit, like distracted 
men. One cried out, wher ye powers of 
ye Church? Wher are ye magistrates? 
what, is ther no constables here to take 
him away? Another interrupting me said, 
Sur, you are not called to be a minister to 
this people" . . . "Then ould preest 
yt preached the sarmint Caught me by the 
hand, saying, dear Sor, I prey you come 
down. Who stroking my hand aded, dear 
sor, I prey you come down, the people are 
well satisfied. But about this Constable 
Came and would have pulled me down 
backward, then up steps one of the hearers, 
and pulled him from me. So by 

[45] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

this time the first preest, whos name is 
John Davenport (of Stamford) had mus- 
tered up one Justes and two Constables, 
who by vilence pulled me down, hailing me 
out of meeting." 

This serious interruption stirred up the 
people mightily and when they were dis- 
missed for physical refreshment, the two 
Quaker agitators followed the "preests" to 
the house on the Green where they had 
gathered. "I do believe," continues Roger 
Gill, " an hondred of ye heds of ye seven per- 
ishes followed us." The minister cour- 
teously invited the Quakers to sit with them 
at the table and enjoy the good things pre- 
pared for entertainment. But they refused 
saying "inasmuch as we did not meet with 
a Spirit of humanity, how could we hav 
any society? . . so we would with- 
draw to our inn, tel ther diner was ended, 
and come up to them ageyn." 

Meanwhile the people waited in the 
dooryard, discussing the event of the day, 
watchful as to the ultimate issue of the 
Quakers' visit. When "preest" John Dav- 
enport appeared in the yard Thomas 
Story attacked him on the subject of bap- 
tism. There were bantering words from 
the Stamford minister and a great eager- 

[46] 



FOUND A COLLEGE 

ness on the part of the shifting company 
to catch every word from "preest" or 
Quaker. Friend Story said, "we are here 
to vindicate ye truth agenst all untruth.'* 
He then elaborated his argument against 
baptism. "But not one man mad one 
word of an answer, all being silent. So 
after a litel pawes, they sad they had a 
select meeting — therefore they desired us 
to withdraw — their time was spent. So 
then after a few words wee parted with 
them, ye people wer Loving to us and one 
Justes of ye peece folloed and sad, friends, 
you have incountered with a body of di- 
vinity to-day." 

I can see the "ould preest" stroking 
gently the hand of Friend Gill and urging 
him kindly to cease this interruption of a 
solemn religious service. I can hear the 
rustle of garments, the smothered whispers, 
the agitation expressed by movement of 
feet and nervous twitchings. Men were 
arrested and severely punished for such 
irreverent behavior in the meeting-house. 
The Colony was opposed to these fruitless 
assaults upon the faith of a quiet and con- 
tented people. " So we took hors and away 
we came yt night to Stratford, and had 

[47] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

great peece with ye Lord." The conclusion 
of a memorable day in the town. 

But the pleasantest pictures of Mr. Webb 
are those which show him as the bright 
and genial companion — the old time jollity 
and fun-loving spirit re-appearing in witty 
conversation and social fellowship. Many 
of these ancient parsons were famous in 
jest and repartee, scattering light and 
kindliness in many homes, bringing cheer 
and uplift to many fainting hearts. 

The various public offices which Mr. 
Webb filled gained for him the affection or 
respect of the colony. When infirmities 
crept upon him the General Court took the 
matter in hand and requested the town to 
provide a helper for him — "he being now 
disabled and through weakness and infirm- 
ity not able to carry on the work of the 
gospel ministry among his people, to the 
great grief of the good people in that 
Society.'* 

The age and infirmity of Mr. Webb gave 
occasion for hope on the part of the breth- 
ren connected with the Church of England 
mission that a day favorable for the rapid 
growth of Episcopacy in town had finally 
dawned. But it was an illusive hope for 
his successor proved to be one of the strong- 

[48] 



FOUND A COLLEGE 

est and staunchest champions of the " Stand- 
ing Order." 

The personal testimonies in respect to 
the character of Mr. Webb are well worth 
remembrance. *'He was hospitable in his 
house, steady in his friendships, free and 
facetious in conversation and most tenderly 
affected toward his relations," says the 
ancient record. Another eulogist described 
him as "A gentleman of Probity and Piety; 
and of distinguished erudition in Grammar, 
Rhetoric, Logic, Theology; a firm Calvin- 
ist in Principles and accounted a most Emi- 
nent preacher — excelling in correct diction, 
clear, sound Scriptural method, manly 
style, appearing most free of affectation." 

For thirty-eight years he labored here 
and died in the harness according to his 
often-expressed wish. 



49] 



A FAMOUS CONTROVERSIALIST 

"The Sabbath immediately preceding his 
death" — I am quoting President Dwight 
in his remarks upon Mr. Hobart — "he 
preached twice and with more than his 
usual animation." A vigorous body sup- 
ported a vigorous mind and spirit through 
the forty years of his notable pastorate in 
Fairfield. There appeared slight diminu- 
tion of force or abatement of zeal in his 
long ministry. Mr. Hobart talked with 
serenity and freedom in the very hour of 
his departure — advising the members of 
his family, arranging his affairs, bidding 
friends good-bye like one beginning a 
long, eventful journey. Some one said 
to him that he was going to receive his 
reward. "I am going," said he, "I trust, 
to receive the mercy of God through 
Christ." 

There was a frankness in speech, man- 
ner and spirit which revealed itself even 
in this hour of change and rest. 

When he came to Fairfield fresh from 

[501 



A FAMOUS CONTROVERSIALIST 

Harvard in 1733 he embarked upon a sea 
of theological discussion and ecclesiastical 
disturbance which often became exceed- 
ingly rough and tempestuous during the 
years of his pilot service. But he was 
admirably adapted to the particular kind 
of service required. 

Noah Hobart was born in Hingham, 
Massachusetts, January 12, 1706. He came 
of stalwart Puritan stock. His grand- 
father the Reverend Peter Hobart was 
the first pastor of the Church of Christ 
in Colonial Hingham, his father Edmund 
emigrating from the English town of Hing- 
ham in 1633. The Reverend Peter Hobart 
"much valued that rule — Study Standing," 
observes Cotton Mather in his notice of 
him, "and until old age and weakness com- 
pelled him he would rarely study sitting." 
Four sons of this first clerical Hobart 
became ministers. But the father of our 
subject chose a secular pursuit and passed 
the ministerial heritage down to the 
grandson. 

The social environment of his youth 
favored this choice of the ministry. A 
Colonial parson was the central figure on 
the stage. Preacher, teacher, adviser, 
leader he largely shaped the life of the 

[511 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

community so that the profession attracted 
the most virile and ambitious young men. 
When Mr. Hobart went courting Pris- 
cilla Thomas of Plymouth he was described 
as a divinity student of great promise — an 
individual destined to play no mean part 
in his day. But, as he was not blessed 
to any great extent with worldly goods, 
the father of Priscilla Thomas objected 
to the match and urged his daughter to 
marry a Plymouth gentleman of some 
fortune. When the situation was ex- 
plained to Mr. Hobart he reflected upon 
it for a season. Then he voluntarily 
released the young lady from her engage- 
ment to him and urged her marriage with 
the fellow-citizen of substance, which 
advice she ultimately followed. This illus- 
trates the matter-of-fact, common sense 
way in which Mr. Hobart regarded the 
affairs of life. It is pleasant, however, to 
recite the further history of this early 
romance. Thirty years later, when Pris- 
cilla Thomas had been twice a widow and 
Mr. Hobart had lost Ellen Sloss, his wife, 
the love of youth was renewed and these 
two people became united in wedlock. 
This happy union was sweetened by the 
marriage of Priscilla Lothrop's son to 

[52] 



A FAMOUS CONTROVERSIALIST 

Noah Hobart's daughter. The font which 
is used in our baptismal service was given 
to this Church in memory of this daughter, 
the lady just named. 

Mr, Hobart's only son sustained the 
high character and service which marked 
the career of his father. Following the 
law he became an eminent jurist in New 
York, was made a judge of the state 
Supreme Court, received an election to 
the United States Senate, an office which 
he, however, declined, and later served 
his term as United States District Judge. 

The Church and Society gave Mr. 
Hobart a unanimous call to this pastor- 
ate and on February 6th and 7th, 1732-33 
(Old Style), the Consociation met in this 
place to ordain the young man to the 
gospel ministry. We read in the records 
that Mr. Hobart "produced a certificate 
under the hands of sundry ministers who 
from their personal acquaintance with the 
said Mr. Hobart do signify his being one 
of virtuous conversation in full commun- 
ion with their Churches, and of desirable 
ministerial accomplishments . ' ' The Coun- 
cil "after a serious and impartial exami- 
nation" appeared well satisfied "in respect 
to the orthodoxy and ministerial qualifica- 

1531 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

tions" of the candidate. The Reverend 
Mr. Stoddard "performed the prayer by 
which the said Mr. Hobart was set apart 
to the work of the ministry" — I quote 
the Council records — while Rev. Mr. 
Cooke "performed the first prayer and 
Rev. Mr. Graham the last." 

The Prime Ancient Society needed the 
services of an aggressive advocate and 
champion of the Established Religion in 
order to "hold its own" and continue 
leadership, for it was a time of transition 
politically and ecclesiastically. Old Lights 
and New Lights had their battle to fight. 
The presence of Whitfield and itinerant 
preachers stirred the Churches to great 
activity. The work of the Society for 
the Propagation of the Gospel was widely 
extended so that there was frequent occa- 
sion for energetic and faithful labors on 
the part of men who represented Con- 
gregationalism. The defections from the 
Prime Ancient Society alarmed Mr. Ho- 
bart and his fellow- workers. A twofold 
task fell to the lot of the new minister. 
He must face the disruptive tendencies 
of the New Light brethren — that move- 
ment which ultimately resulted in the 
multiplication of sects in the Colony and 

[54] 



A FAMOUS COxNTROVERSIALIST 

the organization of Baptist, Methodist 
and other churches. And he must face 
the prestige and activity of the missions 
connected with the Church of England. 
The first-named part of the task was not 
so difficult as the second. The support and 
encouragement of a sympathetic Colonial 
Legislature helped the ministers of the 
Established Religion to break the force 
of the New Light movement. It was 
made illegal for itinerant preachers to 
venture into other parishes and there 
disturb the peace of generations by their 
new doctrines and strange fashions. Mr. 
Hobart was violent in his opposition to 
these fearless, vexatious brethren. 

But the strength of his polemical zeal 
was turned in the direction of the mission 
work done by the Society for the Propa- 
gation of the Gospel. Four small books 
were the fruit of his pen while contending 
for the faith delivered to his Puritan 
ancestors. These brochures are exceed- 
ingly interesting in their revelation of 
social and religious conditions. We find 
in the books vivid pictures of community 
life, sketches of individuals and recitals 
of local events which enable us to throw 
upon the canvas a fair reproduction of 

[551 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

the times. The amenities of discussion 
were conspicuous by their absence. It 
was a day of plain speech. Men did not 
hesitate to say what they thought of each 
other. Good men and true handled the 
English language with vigor. 

The typical New England preacher 
of his day was a man consulted on all the 
affairs of life. Mr. Hobart's contempora- 
ries speak of him as a man of rare judgment. 
The neighborhood looked to him for the 
adjudication of difficulties. He was judge 
and jury on many an occasion. This 
legal aptitude and judicial spirit doubt- 
less had its influencein the determination 
of his son's choice of a profession. The 
father did much legal business as a matter 
of friendship, without pay or position. 
The son decided that pay and position 
should accompany the service in his own 
case and thus strike a sort of balance. 

Mr. Hobart was a book-lover and book 
collector, exceptionally well read in his- 
tory and theology. The wide range of 
his reading is shown in the wealth of 
quotation and illustration distributed 
through his writings. But the literature 
of the day — the popular literature of New 
England — was polemical, bristling with 

[561 



A FAMOUS CONTROVERSIALIST 

the controversial spirit — very dry, dull, 
dreary reading for our day, although the 
pen of Mr. Hobart was so caustic and 
alert that a smile is often evoked. Cer- 
tain it is that his opponents felt the force 
of his argument and brought all their 
batteries to bear upon this champion of 
the Established Religion. 

The acrimony and tempestuousness of 
these assaults and counter-assaults amaze 
us. But when we read on a later day how 
Washington for example was maligned 
and roughly treated — how the leaders of 
the American Revolution and the framers 
of the new Government were consigned to 
infamy by a host of bitter foes, we are 
reminded that this mode of conducting 
controversy was habitual to the colonies. 
Religion, politics and literature alike prac- 
tised the popular methods of the day. In 
fact, we have not risen to a standard 
greatly advanced in these later years. 
Sharp, cruel, malignant are the charges 
often made against the public men of this 
generation. The yellow journals are more 
flamboyant and sensational than the most 
virulent speeches or pamphlets of Colonial 
and Revolutionary times. 

We take these heated discussions and 

[57] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

stinging personalities with many grains 
of salt. Although Mr. Hobart handled 
without gloves opponents like Mr. Caner 
rector of Trinity, and Doctor Johnson 
rector in Stratford, and Mr. Wetmore 
and Mr. Beach and various other cham- 
pions of the Church of England, yet he 
was a man of kindly heart and very genial 
disposition. Sociability was one of his 
chief characteristics. They did real pas- 
toral visitation in his day. The minister 
and his family drove to one or another 
homestead and stayed with the people 
until they had visited to their heart's 
content. The whole realm of theology, 
politics, agriculture, Indian wars, and 
local affairs were canvassed from house to 
house by the minister. His wife must ex- 
change domestic news, household receipts, 
family experiences and the innumerable 
details pertaining to home affairs. Mr. 
Hobart was a rugged, hearty personality, 
able to mow and reap and hoe as well as 
tinker in the shop and barn. It was while 
lending a hand to various neighbors that 
he gathered material for preaching. There 
were many thoughtful men, men whose 
experience was quite as broad as that of 
the minister, living in the old parish. It 

[581 



A FAMOUS CONTROVERSIALIST 

was an intellectual stimulus as well as a 
social pleasure to meet such men as Judge 
Silliman, Justice Burr, Governor Gold 
and the stalwart brethren who represented 
Fairfield in various places of trust. There 
are people who turn back to those days 
with a sort of envious look. Not that we 
would exchange the conveniences and 
inventions of these later times for the rude 
tools and hard conditions of 1740 and 
1770, but that we might enjoy the old 
spirit of intimate fraternity — the heart 
to heart interchange of experience — the 
mutual helpfulness of neighbors — the 
strong consciousness of community life. 
We are too busy now to halt by the way 
and pay much heed to the tedious social 
amenities which enriched the simple life 
of our ancestors. 

Mr. Hobart carried the entire parish in 
his heart. He knew everybody, even the 
stray sheep who wandered down to Mill 
Plain or the Old Mill Gate and worshipped 
according to the Church of England way. 
His affable manner won him a certain 
influence over those who were conscien- 
tiously opposed to his views and practices. 
His generosity and benevolence were not 
restricted to his own flock. He was the 

[591 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

father of all the parish — sympathetic with 
all pain, sorrow, difficulty — drawing upon 
his resources without distinction of party, 
creed or life. A careless observer might 
think that his denunciation of sin, his 
warnings against the New Lights, his 
incessant fire directed toward the Society 
for the Propagation of the Gospel and its 
missionaries indicated a hard heart and a 
relentless disposition. Far from it. He 
was the essence of kindness, gracious 
service, tender consideration, manly en- 
couragement, even among his enemies. 
And there were enemies not a few in town 
and colony. A man cannot champion 
a great cause without parting company 
with some people whom he counts dear. 
This is part of the price we must pay for 
victory. At the same time one's heart 
may remain pure and loyal, one's mind 
honorably and fraternally disposed. The 
virility, ruggedness and abounding high 
spirit of Mr. Hobart did not obscure the 
gentler virtues which manifested them- 
selves in the daily walk of village fellow- 
ship and broader association with people 
of the world. 

His reputation as a man of sense and 
rare good judgment brought him into 

[601 



A FAMOUS CONTROVERSIALIST 

contact with men in many parts of New 
England. "Perhaps as a wise counsellor," 
remarks Doctor Welles of Stamford, one 
of his contemporaries, "he had no superiors 
in the land." This is noteworthy praise. 
On numerous occasions Mr. Hobart was 
called to exercise this gift of advice and 
guidance. When it came to action in 
cases of ecclesiastical judicature he was 
generally placed in the moderator's chair, 
the common consent agreeing that he was 
the most capable and efficient man for 
such office. Matters of uncommon dif- 
ficulty gave him the opportunity to reveal 
a kind of genius in the way of peace- 
making, friendly adjustment and the suc- 
cessful unravelling of perplexing cases. 
The people connected with the Established 
Church in the Colony looked to him as a 
leader whose aims, methods and energies 
merited their confidence and support. 
They listened to his sermons and addresses 
with an assurance that profound convic- 
tions and clear, definite conceptions of 
truth ruled speech and deed so far as he 
was concerned. Conservative in his views, 
a high churchman of the times, a believer 
in the validity of Presbyterian ordination, 
a bitter antagonist of priestcraft, hierarchy 

[611 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

and liturgical custom, he gave a faithful 
witness in all places and under all circum- 
stances. And this "native strength of 
genius and unabated vigor of mind" as 
his biographer expresses it, continued 
through the forty years of his ministry. 
Whether as one of the governing body in 
Yale College, or preacher before the Colo- 
nial Legislature, or writer of books or 
moderator of Association or public coun- 
cillor or friend to men in need, he carried 
weight in the position — the little world of 
which he was a part freely recognized the 
commanding worth of his personality, all 
classes paid him honorable deference and 
shared to a degree in the service which he 
rendered society. 

The rebuke by such a man even when 
administered with gentleness made lasting 
impression. There is a tradition that 
once on a time a neighboring minister, 
fresh to these pastures and unacquainted 
with Mr. Hobart, was chosen to preach in 
Fairfield. Riding across country on horse 
back he came flying into town at a pace 
which shocked the Puritan sense of pro- 
priety and was halted by Mr. Hobart who 
insisted that the stranger should accom- 
pany him to the parsonage and then atone 

162] 



A FAMOUS CONTROVERSIALIST 

for his fast riding by going to meeting. 
To the amazement of Mr. Hobart and 
the members of the parish who had seen 
this fast riding Sunday morning, the fast- 
riding stranger, instead of sitting in a pew, 
marched straight into the pulpit and then 
explained to the pastor that he was the 
expected preacher for the day. Doubtless 
Mr. Hobart's rebuke lost none of its force 
by reason of the lax conduct exhibited. 
Probably he emphasized his admonitory 
words when the two ministers communed 
together in the quiet of the pastor's study. 
But we are not to draw unfair conclu- 
sions respecting the strictness and decorum 
of those days. There was social amenity 
in abundance, delightful fellowship and 
good cheer, a warm, rich fraternity among 
the people. And the minister was first 
in all which contributed to the common 
enjoyment and benefit. There were forty 
years of this loyal service on the part of 
Mr. Hobart — forty years in this parish 
devoted to scholarship, education, justice, 
controversy, genial visitation in time of 
sickness and trial and domestic felicity 
and varied prosperity — forty years given 
to an unselfish and tireless fidelity in help- 

[63] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

ing people to a higher ideal of life and a 
richer fruition of their labors — forty years 
invested in the endeavor to transfer the 
Gospel from the dead pages of a book to 
living epistles among men. 



[64] 




y. 

< 



VI 

THE SCHOLAR IN WAR-TIME 

It was Sunday the eleventh of July, 1779. 
The people of this parish had met once 
again for public worship. The Meeting- 
House which stood on the Green no more 
gave them welcome. Nothing remained 
of it but heaps of ashes. The dwelling- 
houses which formerly imparted an air of 
good-cheer and comfort to the town had 
vanished — their tall, blackened chimneys 
looming grim and lonely against the hori- 
zon. The charred masses of debris on 
every side told the tale of tragedy and 
desolation enacted through the length and 
breadth of Fairfield. No bell sounded its 
melodious notes of invitation. There was 
scant attempt to appear in Sunday apparel. 
The worshippers came from tents, from 
hastily constructed sheds, from the seclu- 
sion of wooded retreats or from the dis- 
tant shelter of friendly homes which had 
been hospitably opened to them after the 
burning of the town. What a motley com- 
pany it was which assembled here on the 

6 165] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

Green one hundred and thirty-two years ago 
on that mid- July Sabbath! Waste, black- 
ness, destruction, misery on all sides — the 
very verdure of kindly nature so scorched 
and disfigured that it passed recognition. 

One of the five houses on the Green 
which came unscathed through the storm 
of fire was the home of Deacon Nathan 
Bulkley, town clerk, public servant and 
prominent layman in the Prime Ancient 
Society. The brief, significant record of 
the old Parish Register runs as follows : 

"July 11th, Lord's Day. The Church 
and Society met and with the pastor car- 
ried on religious services as usual, at the 
house of Deacon Bulkley." 

The house still remains to give its silent 
witness as a faithful historian. It was a 
little band of worshippers. Many of the 
men belonging to the congregation were 
serving in the army or on the sea. Many 
of the women and children had not yet 
recovered from the strain and suffering of 
the British assault. We read between the 
lines of this short statement. It was the 
few who were able to gather for worship. 
Who can describe the weight of sorrow 
carried by these loyal people. Yet the 
minister fed the fires of patriotism which 

[661 



THE SCHOLAR IN WAR-TIME 

burned brightly in their hearts and com- 
forted them with visions of freedom, 
renewed life and national greatness. 

For several succeeding Sabbaths the 
pastor sought to hearten his people and 
inspire them with fresh courage. Then, as 
the record suggestively states it, there 
were "no religious services, the pastor 
being sick." Nature gave way for a 
season. 

You remember Mr. Eliot's account of 
the burning preserved in our Church Book. 
"Our holy and beautiful house, where our 
fathers praised Thee, is burnt up with fire, 
and all our pleasant things are laid waste." 

"The Lord gave and the Lord hath 
taken away." 

"Blessed be the name of the Lord." 

"All things work together for good to 
them that love God, to them who are the 
called according to His purpose." 
Alleluia ! 

"The Lord God Omnipotent reigneth. 
Amen." 

This was the spirit of the Reverend 
Andrew Eliot — subniission and hopeful- 
ness, unquenchable zeal and all conquering 
faith. A little later it became evident that 
poverty, losses, taxation — all the dire 

[671 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

havoc and exhaustion of war had so crip- 
pled this people that they were unable to 
pay the minister his salary. Bravely, 
trustingly did he rise to the emergency and 
make noble sacrifice of personal needs. 
"I have been with you in your prosperity;" 
he said, "I will stay with you in your 
adversity." So Mr. Eliot gave a receipt 
for one pound to the treasurer of the 
Society, this being his salary in full during 
a period of two years. Meanwhile the 
people gathered "the avails of iron and 
nails from the old Meeting-House " that 
they might contribute to the metal for a 
new bell while the drum was beat to call 
them to public worship week by week. 

The Reverend Andrew Eliot came of 
stock historic. He was the great-great- 
grandson of Andrew Eliot who emigrated 
from Somersetshire, England, the latter 
part of the seventeenth century and settled 
in Beverly, Massachusetts — which town 
he represented in the General Court, 1690. 
The grandfather of our Andrew was 
another Andrew who prospered as a mer- 
chant in the prosperous city of Boston. 
The father of our Andrew was another An- 
drew, the famous Doctor Eliot of the New 
England capital, long time pastor of the 

[681 



THE SCHOLAR IN WAR-TIME 

New North Church. A man of learning — 
eloquent, industrious and popular — a leader 
of men and a generous public servant — 
his influence extended far and wide through 
city and country. In 1767 the degree of 
Doctor of Divinity was conferred upon 
him by Edinburgh University. In 1765 
he was chosen a member of the Corpora- 
tion of Harvard University. In 1769 he 
was earnestly solicited to become presi- 
dent of Harvard, which honor he declined. 
In 1773 he was actually selected for the 
office and again refused it, preferring to 
remain pastor of the Church to which he 
devoted his life. When Boston was block- 
aded he remained in the city in order to 
minister to his people and the isolated, 
beleaguered citizens of the place — his fam- 
ily tarrying here in Fairfield during the 
period. A volume of his sermons is one of 
the treasures of our Historical Society. 
It was the custom in those days to distrib- 
ute mourning rings among friends of the 
deceased. The pastor of the New North 
Church possessed a large and varied col- 
lection of these strange funeral emblems. 
This man of marked worth and distinc- 
tion bequeathed a precious legacy of help- 
ful associations and impulses to his son, 

[691 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

the pastor of this parish during the forma- 
tive period of the American Repubhc. 

Our Andrew was born in 1743, and edu- 
cated in Boston and Cambridge, graduat- 
ing from Harvard in 1762. He was elected 
Librarian of the College and became accus- 
tomed to the ravage of fire when in 1764 
the old College building was burned and he 
lost all his personal belongings. In 1768, 
as a recognition of his good scholarship, 
young Eliot was appointed tutor and in 
1773 he was elected a Fellow of Harvard. 
The esteem and affection of his pupils has 
an historic memorial in the chaste, massive 
loving cup presented to him on leaving 
College — a memorial which his descend- 
ants keep today with tender regard and 
devotion. 

When Mr. Eliot appeared in Fairfield 
there were people who opposed his coming. 
The first meeting convened to extend a call 
to him was adjourned without action. 
When the members of the Society assem- 
bled on the second meeting one of Mr. 
Eliot's supporters related a dream. "I 
dreamt," said Mr. Bibbins, "that I was 
carried away and suddenly found myself 
in Satan's dominions. There seemed to be 
much confusion in the place. Soon Satan 

[70] 



THE SCHOLAR IN WAR-TIME 

rapped for order and said : ' Fellow-devils — 
tomorrow the men of Fairfield are going to 
make another effort to elect that young 
Eliot their minister. I hate him. He 
never misses a chance to give us hard 
knocks. What shall we do?' *Send some 
one to stir up a fight/ cried one of the bad 
spirits. * Yes, that is a bright idea/ replied 
Satan, and he started two of his minions 
for Fairfield. 

"*Come back, come back,' he suddenly 
shouted as they were plunging into the 
darkness. *Come back.' And they 
returned. 

" 'You needn't go' Satan explained hila- 
riously. * I recollect now that Mr. Blank ' 
(he was the leader of the opposition) 'I 
recollect now that Mr. Blank is on hand. 
He can do more to get them fighting than a 
dozen like you.' " 

When Mr. Bibbins finished the story of 
his dream, the leader of the opposition, the 
foe of Mr. Eliot, sprang angrily to his feet, 
seized his hat and stamped noisily down 
the aisle, muttering bitter words. The 
vote was put and Mr. Eliot received an 
unanimous "call" — which "call" was con- 
veyed by Captain Abel on horseback to 
the gentleman in Boston. The young 

[71] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

minister entered upon his field at once and 
continued in service until his death. 

Mr. Eliot found himself in congenial 
company when he assumed charge of work 
in this parish. A man of culture, he be- 
came the associate of a remarkable galaxy 
of educated, intellectual public men. At 
different periods it was his good fortune 
to meet in Fairfield many of the leaders in 
politics, literature, education, statesman- 
ship and social life. Judges, Generals, 
Governors, Artists, Legislators, Scientists, 
and other men of affairs either made their 
home in Fairfield during Mr. Eliot's pas- 
torate or became frequent visitors and 
familiar figures on the streets — among them 
Doctor Dwight, Joel Barlow, and Colonel 
Humphrey the poets, Copley and Trum- 
bull the artists, the Burrs, the Adamses, 
the Quincys, the Hancocks, Franklin, 
Lafayette, Roger Sherman, Kent, Deane, 
Oliver Ellsworth, many of the men con- 
spicuous in the pages of American history. 

And Mr. Eliot was the peer of these 
notable public servants. They listened to 
his counsels and addresses with interest 
and appreciation. All through the years 
he continued in close relations with his 
numerous Boston friends and co-workers. 

[72] 



THE SCHOLAR IN WAR-TIME 

Many letters written by Mr. Eliot are pre- 
served and they would make a valuable 
contribution to the illuminating epistolary 
writing of his day. He was a member of 
the Connecticut Academy of Arts and 
Sciences and a corresponding member of 
the Massachusetts Historical Society 
which has printed a collection of his letters 
in its publications. His scholarship was 
superior. Prof. Benjamin Silliman re- 
ceived early impulse in the way of science 
and knowledge through the friendship and 
instructions of his pastor, Mr. Eliot, who 
prepared him for Yale College. The 
account of the burning of Fairfield in 1779 
which the minister of this parish sent to 
friends in Boston is a most graphic and 
thrilling story. 

The losses which came to Mr. Eliot on 
this occasion are recorded in an inventory 
which he prepared. His library, one of the 
most valuable and extensive in the colony, 
was consumed with other household belong- 
ings. Friends in Boston expressed sym- 
pathy for his crippled condition by taking 
up a special collection in the New North 
Church with which he purchased needed 
books. 

Mr. Eliot was a collector of historical 

[73] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

documents, a lover of literature, a student 
of events. The correspondence which he 
carried on for many years with relatives 
and friends covers the discussion of numer- 
ous questions. His sermons and addresses 
on Election Day and other important 
occasions show breadth of knowledge, 
firm grasp of public affairs, a progressive 
spirit, and a generous culture. Mr. Eliot 
gathered the published Election Sermons 
of the ministers who had preached before 
the Connecticut Legislature and presented 
the collection to the Massachusetts His- 
torical Society. He prepared various 
papers on learned subjects. He was a 
most genial and agreeable host, entertain- 
ing a long succession of notable guests in 
his home. His affability, social graces, 
learning, toleration, abounding charity 
and kindly appreciation made him a com- 
manding figure in the life of this town for 
a generation. 

But the patriotism of this eminent min- 
ister gave him special distinction. During 
the critical period when he served this peo- 
ple, there were grave questions of Church 
and State to be settled. The antagonism 
between the Society for the Propagation 
of the Gospel in Foreign Parts and the 

[74] 



THE SCHOLAR IN WAR-TIME 

Established Religion of Connecticut was 
sharp and distressing. The Churches 
organized by the Episcopal brethren were 
inevitably identified with the Tory element 
and British sovereignty. The Congrega- 
tional Churches were even more closely 
identified with Independence. 

Yet Mr. Eliot did not enter upon con- 
troversy and wage warfare polemical and 
ecclesiastical as did his predecessor, Mr. 
Hobart. He lived on terms of friendliness 
and sympathy with the rector of Trinity 
and other people of the Church of England. 
This had been the relation between his 
father in Boston and the Episcopal breth- 
ren. The younger Eliot followed a worthy 
example and cultivated agreeable associ- 
ations with men whose views of theology 
and politics were quite at variance with 
his own. His kindly sympathy and toler- 
ance under the strenuous circumstances 
which surrounded him reveal a man of fine 
spirit and notable catholicity. Contending 
fearlessly, urgently for the religious and 
ecclesiastical principles of the Saybrook 
Platform and the political principles ex- 
pressed vigorously by the popular songs, 
speeches and writings of the patriots, he 
nevertheless manifested such consider- 

[751 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

ation for his opponents, such good-will 
and generosity, such forbearance and help- 
fulness that he won the confidence and 
esteem of foe as well as friend. 

His ministry here continued for life — a 
ministry nobly blessed in every way. The 
period of the American Revolution was a 
severe test of a man's strength and leader- 
ship; but the period which followed tested 
a man not less rigidly. A time of agitation 
and poverty, a time of renewal and transi- 
tion — it taxed the powers of body, mind 
and soul. The strain on faith and wisdom 
was great. It required the vision and hope- 
fulness of an old time seer to guide the 
young nation. 



[76] 



VII 

A DAY WITH DOCTOR DWIGHT ON GREEN- 
FIELD HILL 

It was a happy decision made by the 
General Association of this Colony when 
June was chosen as the month for their 
annual fellowship. 

Greenfield Hill in the year 1790 has 
been etched by the poet: 

"As round me here I gaze, what prospects rise? 
Ethereal, matchless 

Fair Verna, loveliest village of the west; 
Of every joy and every charm possessed." 

This "fair Verna," "seat of peace and 
pleasure," place of "cheerful lawns" and 
sweet "bird carols," "home of industry" 
and "glowang faith," was a parish set 
off from the Prime Ancient Society of 
Fairfield 1725, said to contain nearly 
fourteen hundred inhabitants, mostly 
farmers. When the new pastor moved 
into the parish — this was the year 1783 — 
his people pledged him a settlement sum 
of three hundred pounds sterling, a salary 

[77] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

of one hundred and fifty pounds sterling, 
a parsonage lot of six acres and an annual 
fire-wood supply of twenty cords — one of 
the largest stipends paid in the state. At 
this time the population of New Haven 
exceeded that of the town of Fairfield by 
two or three hundred people. A beauti- 
ful country district, well tilled and pros- 
perous, it was an ideal parish of "ye olden 
times." 

This "fair Verna" welcomed fifteen 
parsons who came on horses (perhaps one 
or two of them in chaises) from diverse 
parts of the state. 

There was Nathaniel Taylor tall and 
erect, great good nature suffusing his 
countenance. He came across the country 
from New Milford. A man of excellent 
business habits, exact and methodical, a 
trustee of Yale College, he was chosen 
moderator. In the stress of the Revolu- 
tion he had remitted to his parish an 
entire year's salary. Well versed in the 
lore of fruit trees as well as theology, he 
combined indoor and outdoor study, vigor 
of body and mind attesting the fact of this 
happy union. A worthy descendant was 
another Nathaniel, remembered as the 
captain of a theological host marshaled 

[781 



A DAY WITH DOCTOR DWIGHT 

on the training field of the Divinity Insti- 
tution at New Haven. 

The Association appointed Mr. Ben- 
jamin Trumbull, Scribe. This interesting 
gentleman was one of the chaplains in the 
war of the Revolution whose patriotism 
would not be restricted to clerical offices. 
He handled the musket with skill and he 
had his adventures. It was he and Colo- 
nel Tallmadge who were left in the river 
Bronx by a horse frightened into riotous 
activity because of a double burden on 
its back. Mr. Trumbull was remarkable 
for his agility. His workmen in the field 
found it no easy task to keep abreast of him 
as he swung the scythe. 

Let us remark how this meeting of the 
Association 121 years ago, which we are 
by courtesy of remembrance attending, 
called to mind that the Association had 
sometime since "desired Mr. Benjamin 
Trumbull to write a religious history of 
the late American Revolution and as he 
expressed his wishes that the Association 
would appoint a committee to inspect 
said history and report their opinion con- 
cerning it to this body at the next general 
Association," "Voted the Rev. Drs. Good- 
rich and Dwight and John Trumbull Esq. 

[791 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

be a committee for that purpose." The 
religious history was never written; but 
the thought and desire of these men was 
perfectly manifest in this urgent request 
for Mr. Trumbull to put on record the 
splendid, undeviating patriotism of these 
Congregational leaders as opposed to the 
Toryism and hostility of numerous other 
preachers in Connecticut. The history 
written by Trumbull assumed broader 
scope and is a treasury of riches upon 
which all later writers on the subject draw 
freely if not gratefully. Large is the debt 
which we owe him for the literary service 
rendered through his long period of re- 
search and labor. "He brought me in 
manuscript," says Professor Silliman, "all 
elegantly written out in his most beautiful 
chirography, the entire second volume of 
his History of Connecticut." 

Robert Ross, writer of school books and 
lover of freedom, rode over from Newfield, 
the thriving village on the Pequonnock. 
Six feet in height, and with ample propor- 
tions, dressed in his wig, cocked hat, 
ruffled shirt, black coat, white topped 
boots, light vest and breeches, he was a 
typical dignified scholar, patriot, zealot. 

Rufus Hawley whose pastorate extended 

[80] 



A DAY WITH DOCTOR DWIGHT 

over jfifty-one years in West Avon was 
present, John Foot forty-six years pas- 
tor in Cheshire, Aaron Church who served 
the East Hartland church for forty-two 
years, and Ebenezer Kellogg pastor in 
North Bolton for fifty -five years. Nathan- 
iel Bartlett rode across the hills from 
Redding. He was the parson who dis- 
charged pastoral duties with gun in hand, 
such dire threats of vengeance did the 
Tories fling at him during the Hvely days 
of the Revolution. There was special 
reason for this neighborhood hostility 
since the good man freely turned his 
house into a magazine for arms and ammu- 
nition. His pastoral service extended over 
a period of fifty-seven years. 

Mr. Zebulon Ely represented Lebanon 
and the church of the Trumbulls on this 
occasion. It was he who oflSciated at 
the funeral of the first Governor Trumbull, 
and the second Governor Trumbull and 
William Williams, a signer of the Declara- 
tion of Independence; Mr. Ely was pastor 
in the historic town for forty-two years. 
The father of twelve children who at- 
tained maturity, he transmitted his virtues 
to the later generations. He had been a 
student at Yale when the British attacked 

7 [811 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

New Haven and had joined with Doctor 
Daggett and other clerical brethren in 
defending the city. Later, a tutor in the 
college, he continued a scholar's fidelity 
to his books. 

Dr. Samuel Lockwood travelled the 
rough way from Andover to Greenfield. 
This is the rare man who modestly ex- 
pressed his sorrow that Yale College, 
which he loved and served as a trustee, 
had been so kindly disposed that the degree 
of Doctor of Divinity was bestowed upon 
him. Not flattered, but pained by the 
honor because of his own unworthiness, 
he deprecated the folly of such a mistake. 
When his life- journey was ended he passed 
on to his friend Doctor Williams as souve- 
nirs of his affection his best boots and 
spurs, his walking-staff and wig. 

Judah Champion came down from Litch- 
field. It was he who told his people one 
Sunday morning how the Continental 
soldiers on the borders of Canada were 
suffering. As a result his congregation 
on that particular afternoon was all men. 
The women had hastened to their homes, 
set in motion their spinning wheels and 
looms, illustrating as the good man observed 

[82] 



I 



A DAY WITH DOCTOR DWIGHT 

on a later occasion that precious text 
"Mercy before sacrifice." 

Elizur Goodrich was another guest. 
This minister had been taught to speak 
Latin from childhood so that he used it 
with the ease akin to his use of the mother 
tongue. What a fine record this long 
time pastor of the church in Durham has 
left us! Linguist, scientist who rarely 
failed to compute the eclipses, book- 
lover whose library literally covered the 
walls of three large rooms, teacher, having 
sometimes as many as thirty young men 
under his charge, member of the Yale 
Corporation, toilsome farmer — yes, for 
was it not in the hayfield one day that he 
suddenly cried out, "Ah, I see it! I see 
it! There it is." 

"See what, father?" 

"I see where the blunder lay. I must 
get back that foolish paper from Doctor 
Rittenhouse before he sends it to England." 
(A paper containing a complicated mathe- 
matical problem.) So he threw down his 
rake, ran into the house and sent a letter 
with all haste to his distant friend. This 
robust, virile member of the Association 
gave to the children much of his natural 
force and ability, two sons becoming 

[831 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

members of Congress, one a member of 
the United States Senate and Judge, and 
one a minister, the father of Peter Parley, 
that proHfic and fascinating writer of the 
last century. A man eminent for his 
wisdom, with a lively flow of wit and 
humor, he carried grace with him into 
every life relation. 

These annual meetings of the Association 
you remember, convened at the minister's 
house. On this occasion the host was 
Timothy Dwight, recently made a Doctor 
of Divinity by Princeton College. 

As the clerical travellers rested upon 
the crest of the Hill, the undulating land- 
scape unfolded before them like a pano- 
rama, blue waters of the Sound in the 
distance and Long Island pushed against 
the dim horizon. 

"His mansion,*' wrote Mr. Samuel 
Davis in 1789 when describing a visit to 
Doctor D wight's home, "his mansion is 
all neat and his gardens are well culti- 
vated." The pupils in the family assisted 
their master in this enviable diversion of 
horticulture. There were old-fashioned 
flowers contributing their loveliness and 
fragrance. The strawberry patch received 
special attention from the proprietor of 

[841 



A DAY WITH DOCTOR DWIGHT 

this charming domain and his young 
helpers — Doctor Dwight being one of the 
first men to introduce the cultivation of 
this delicious berry in our land. The par- 
ish acreage granted the minister abounded 
in the fruits of the region. An orchard 
yielded its generous supply of well-flavored 
apples. And the house — the spacious 
house — set amid this prodigality of nature 
was pervaded by an atmosphere of seren- 
ity, good-cheer, fine culture, exalted senti- 
ment. The numerous paintings done by 
the hand of Mr. Dunlap, his brother-in- 
law, the many books lining the walls of 
various rooms, the quiet evidences of a 
generous, noble life — these things all con- 
tributed to the happiness and the hospi- 
tality of the home. 

The pupils instructed by Doctor Dwight 
in his early period of service used Gershom 
Hubbell's shop as a school-room — but 
friends soon rallied to his support and 
built the academy — a modest structure 
thirty-four feet by twenty-two feet, crowned 
by a cupola. There were three windows 
on each side of the building. The room 
accommodated fifty or sixty students — 
the number reached when the school was 
most prosperous. Spelling, reading, pen- 

185] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

manship, declamation, composition, Eng- 
lish Grammar, Arithmetic, Geography, 
Algebra, Surveying, Navigation, Natural 
Philosophy, Latin and Greek were all 
taught with equal facility and thorough- 
ness by Mr. Dwight. Hebrew was added 
when some theological apprentice requested 
it. Many of the pupils were very young — 
ten years old, twelve, fifteen. Occasion- 
ally a student came down from Yale — 
not to cram for an examination or atone 
for some deficiency as is the frequent 
custom of these days — ^but to take his 
fourth year with Doctor Dwight in pref- 
erence to the course prescribed by the 
faculty of the college. 

Wednesday afternoons there were speak- 
ing exercises and a spelling match. The 
winners in the word contest had fifteen 
minutes extra recess in recognition of their 
proficiency. 

It was Doctor D wight's habit to rise 
early in the morning and discharge various 
tasks so that he might be prepared for the 
interruptions incident to the management 
of parish affairs and his teaching labors. 
An incurable injury to his eyes when in 
college had crippled him in his reading so 
that a large part of his book knowledge 

[861 



A DAY WITH DOCTOR DWIGHT 

came through the medium of helpers who 
read to him. Doctor Dwight employed no 
paid assistant in teaching the more than 
one thousand pupils who attended his 
school during eleven years' pastorate in 
Greenfield. Adopting the Lancastrian sys- 
tem of impressing the older pupils into 
service, they became his co-workers, ful- 
filling faithful oflSces in their attendance 
upon the younger learners while they dis- 
ciplined themselves into a more exact and 
thorough knowledge of the lessons taught. 
It was a sort of patriarchal household in 
the parsonage on Greenfield Hill. The 
home life was sweet, and gracious — enriched 
by the luxuriance of nature and the delight 
of healthful rural pursuits. There were a 
dozen boarders in the family — young men 
from the south and east and the middle 
states, youth which represented the best 
blood of the land; there were numerous 
day-pupils from the Hill and the immediate 
vicinity, both boys and girls; for Doctor 
Dwight acted as pioneer in fostering female 
education. He kept horses for riding. 
Long walks through field and forest diver- 
sified such exercises as labor on the farm 
and in the garden, which the boys freely 
shared with him after the six hours of 

f 87 1 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

school tasks were ended. Then came even- 
ing hours when guests tarried for the night, 
guests from all parts of the land seeking 
advice, fellowship, inspiration, paying hom- 
age to his character and attainments, con- 
tributing something to his enjoyment and 
popularity. There were few homes in the 
young republic which diffused a nobler 
influence or shone with a brighter radiance 
than this ideal home of the country minis- 
ter on Greenfield Hill. Washington enter- 
tained with ampler service and statelier 
ceremony at Mount Vernon, but the spirit 
of hospitality was matched in the scholar's 
humbler mansion and the spirit of culture, 
refinement, hopefulness was perhaps unsur- 
passed in all the land. "I often expressed 
the opinion," said Judge Roger M. Sher- 
man, "which length of time has continu- 
ally strengthened, that no man, except 
the father of bis country, had conferred 
greater benefits on our nation than Doctor 
Dwight." 

A man of noble presence, straight as an 
arrow, his chest broad and full, the brow 
open and impressive, piercing black eyes 
marked by peculiar powers of fascination, 
setting off with distinction his rather pale 
cast of countenance — this genial host 

[88] 



A DAY WITH DOCTOR DWIGHT 

whose grace, animation, intelligence and 
friendliness won all hearts — whose strong, 
rich, deep, melodious voice interpreted 
with delicacy and effectiveness the finest 
gradations of sentiment and emotion — 
welcomed on this rare fifteenth day of 
June, 1790, the state Association of Connec- 
ticut. 

As we meet Doctor Dwight and his 
guests on this occasion and hear them 
discuss: "Whether in the opinion of this 
Association, any further degree of union 
between the churches of this State and 
their brethren of the Congregational and 
Presbyterian churches throughout the 
United States of America would be expe- 
dient and desirable" — a question which 
suggests that the seed of Christian Union 
was germinating here in Connecticut more 
than a century ago — as we meet these men 
and listen to their animated talk the first 
impression made upon us is that we are 
guests with a company of scholars in a 
scholar's home. 

Various members of the Association had 
households similar in general character to 
the household of Doctor Dwight — a greater 
or less number of boarding and day-pupils 
who prepared for college or pursued the 

[89] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

study of theology and the classics with the 
minister as teacher. Familiarity with Latin, 
Greek, Hebrew, Mathematics, History 
and Science was characteristic of these 
men. They or their brethren not only 
founded and guided Yale College, but they 
constituted largely the learned class of the 
state, the teaching force, the literary ele- 
ment, the students of nature. Did not 
these men compute eclipses, observe the 
phenomena of the heavens and the earth, 
write instructively upon botany, agricul- 
ture, mechanics, physics and the many 
themes of public concern .^^ Neither did 
such service divert them from the absorb- 
ing passion for dogmatics. Doctor Dwight 
gave as Wednesday evening lectures in 
Greenfield Hill his great system of theology 
— lectures afterward used for his work at 
Yale College. And many a pastor in the 
state fed his people with like solid food 
for ordinary diet. Listen to the conversa- 
tion! It is interspersed with quotations 
from Horace, Cicero, Homer, Virgil, the 
prophets and historians of ancient Israel 
in the orginal tongues. Poets, philosophers 
and theologians of every Christian century 
contribute their riches to the occasion. 
There is no lack of wit and humor — an 

[90] 



A DAY WITH DOCTOR DWIGHT 

inheritance from some English divine or 
Latin or Greek author. Profound thought, 
dignified language with prodigious learn- 
ing freights the very air, imparting aca- 
demic tone and flavor to common life. 

Scholarship, ample, sympathetic, thor- 
ough scholarship — a characteristic of our 
predecessors in the ministry of this Com- 
monwealth. Can we ask for anything less 
today than this same generous consecration 
to learning? Will any narrower equip- 
ment satisfy an age which abounds in 
universal intelligence, and widely diffused 
culture? 

As we meet Doctor D wight and his 
guests and listen to their earnest speech on 
the political issues of the day — for remem- 
ber that the Republic was only a strug- 
gling, uncertain infant — we are impressed by 
the fact that we stand in the company of 
ardent, high-minded patriots. I have re- 
ferred to the service which these men and 
their brothers in the ministry rendered 
during the rough years of strife with Great 
Britain. Had not Dwight himself been a 
chaplain in the army and had he not 
written songs which kindled the soldiers' 
imagination and inspired them with exalted 
hopes of our national destiny? 

[Oil 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

**A world is thy realm; for a world be thy laws. 
Enlarged as thy empire, and just as thy cause. 
***** 

Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise, 

The Queen of the world, and the child of the skies." 

"I have long thought," writes a literary 
critic, *'that his stirring ode had great 
influence in animating national hope and 
spirit in the revolutionary war, and to a 
degree which has not been adequately 
acknowledged." 

Two young preachers had been associated 
with Dwight in the writing of patriotic 
rhapsodies — Joel Barlow, one time his 
assistant teacher in Northampton, and 
David Humphrey, a neighbor coming from 
Derby. 

The patriotism of these ministers was 
staunch through all the period of warfare — 
the days of poverty and want — and the 
troublous season of political construction. 
In the pulpit and on the Green they dis- 
coursed learnedly, enthusiastically upon 
the great problems of state and national 
organization, as well as the local problems 
of Established Religion and parish manage- 
ment. They showed neither fear nor favor 
in their frank, illuminating discussions. 
The eagerness, sagacity, adaptation, self- 

[92J 



A DAY WITH DOCTOR DWIGHT 

sacrifice, courage, endurance, manliness 
evinced by these New England parsons is 
a most inspiring memory. 

As we meet Doctor D wight and his 
guests we are conscious that we have passed 
into an atmosphere of refined and exalted 
spirituality. These men are breasting the 
waves of infidelity, materialism and attend- 
ant evils, which have begun their havoc in 
church and state. Remember how our 
friendship with France had opened the 
way for the subtle diffusion of doubt and 
sensuality prevailing in that restless coun- 
try. Remember that some of our national 
leaders frankly avowed their sympathy 
with the views current in French society. 
Call to mind also the fact that war inevi- 
tably leaves behind it a trail of vicious 
tendencies and base, riotous impulses. 
The times bred discontent, lawlessness and 
immorality. These sad conditions were 
unduly emphasized by the heated, unbroth- 
erly discussions on the disestablishment of 
Congregationalism in Connecticut, so that 
the ministry of our churches was chastened, 
discipHned, purified; their sterling worth, 
and piety, their quenchless faith, their 
indomitable zeal tried as by fire. Doctor 
D wight became leader in his witness for 

[93 1 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

the things of the spirit. It was a few years 
later when he was President of Yale College 
that this leadership in the revival of spirit- 
ual life assumed its distinctive and widely 
influential character. But these men asso- 
ciated with him responded to the same 
inner call and wrought with a like fidelity 
and hopefulness in behalf of the evangelical 
renaissance. One of the most inspiring 
lessons taught by this recurrence to the 
meeting of four generations past is found in 
this expression of vital Christianity at the 
very time when some foolish visionaries 
prophesied the passing of our religion. 
The radiance — the glory of faith filled the 
hearts and minds of these brave preachers 
even when opposition was most rampant 
and aggressive. The country was saved 
from moral disaster and spiritual wreck 
largely by the spirit, character, activity of 
the strong, wise men, unswerving in 
loyalty to Christ freshly inflaming their 
fellows with the faith of the fathers. 



94 





TTT 

y V. 

** "■" ' ...i...„ 


^^j^H^^^^^Hl 


















< 



VIII 

FAMILY TREES IN THE PARISH 

The art of cultivating a Family Tree, 
while not attaining the distinction of a fine 
art, has become a thing of vast importance. 
A venerable county capital assumes special 
importance in these days of adventurous 
search for ancestors. The parson there- 
fore finds at hand an absorbing diversion. 
As it is currently reported that he has little 
or nothing to do, only two sermons and 
Wednesday talk each week with a few 
delightful calls every seven days, what more 
natural than that the public scattered from 
Maine to California should write to him 
for the information essential to a fruitful 
cultivation of the Family Tree? 

On the appearance of "An old New Eng- 
land Town" the author came into writing 
touch with innumerable descendants of 
the early sturdy pioneer stock. And there 
were many compensations. The fraternal 
spirit that binds a man into the fellowship 
of minds aflame with kindred purpose and 
enthusiasm is worth all foster care. The 

[ 95 1 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

interchange of thought, investigation, anec- 
dote is truly tonic. * 

I have a characteristic note from John 
Fiske in which he traces his ancestry down 
from Simon Fiske of Suffolk, 1464, through 
William, Simon, Simon, Robert, Thomas, 
Phineas who came to Salem, 1644, John, 
Doctor John, Captain John of Middletown 
who died in 1761, John, Jr., Bezaleel, John, 
Mary who married John Bound, Mary 
Fiske Bound who married Edmund B. 
Green, father of the historian who changed 
his name to John Fiske. "Most of my 
Fiske ancestors seem to have been town- 
clerks," he writes. The inference is legiti- 
mate that this bias in the blood reached 
its happy consummation in the scholarship 
of this illustrious descendant of town clerks. 

Donald G. Mitchell writes me concern- 
ing "a great stock of parson ancestors," 
father, great-great-grandfather — Solomon 
Stoddard, Governor Saltonstall, the Wood- 
bridges, John Wood and Elder Brewster of 
the Mayflower. "I wish I were as worthy 
as the least of them." Good friend, now 
departed, vex not your soul with lingering 
regrets ! Their blood did flow a pure stream 
through your veins. The sweetness and 
the richness, the nobility and lofty vision of 

[96 1 



FAMILY TREES IN THE PARISH 

these brave, triumphant preachers unto 
life gave tone to your service while your 
service reflects fadeless honor upon such 
men. 

And now the hand turns over a charming, 
little epistle — one of several — from the 
lovable poet and generous critic, who 
through laborious years in Wall Street 
filled in the precious interstices of time 
with enduring literary achievement. 

"Yes, bless you, my family tree has a 
parson on every branch. Doubtless the 
most racy and historic of them all was my 
great-grandfather Rev. Aaron Cleaveland. 
His daughter Sarah married my staunch 
old Calvanistic grandfather, David Low 
Dodge, himself a ruling elder and writer of 
lay sermons, who taught me to read, and 
ruled a wild boy according to the old adage 
of 'Spare the rod and spoil the child.'" 
Magnificent progenitors of worthful and 
far-famed representatives ! We marvel not 
thatMr. Edmund Clarence Stedman thrilled 
with enviable family pride as his pen 
fashioned these words. 

"I believe I have no colonial parson 
among my ancestors,'* writes Mr. George 
W. Cable. This is a rare case and the 
author of "Old Creole Days" has our sym- 

8 [97] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

pathies. What famous fathers and grand- 
fathers and great-grandfathers these ancient 
preachers were ! Their vitaHzing and per- 
fecting influences have spread through the 
nation, a very savor of life unto Hfe. Are 
not Emerson and Lowell, Bancroft and Hil- 
dreth and Parkman and Motley and Hig- 
ginson and Hale and Alcott — the noble 
company of Boston poets, historians and 
essayists the fortunate inheritors of the 
priceless legacy? They represent one kind 
of service done by these early ministers. 

But here is Prof. Henry van Dyke, — 
pray, good friend accept our heartfelt con- 
dolences — who writes that "So far as I 
know I have not a drop of New England 
blood in my veins, being with the exception 
of a slight English strain through Pennsyl- 
vania a simon pure Dutchman." Alas! 
that our Princeton psalmist, true master 
of the literary art should be foreordained 
to such trammelling misfortune — "not a 
drop of New England blood in my veins"! 

This familiarity with genealogical lore 
has its compensations, as was previously 
remarked. It is pleasant to bask in the sun- 
shine of acquaintance and friendliness that 
possibly never advances beyond the limits of 
the rural free delivery. But in this cultiva- 

f 98 1 



FAMILY TREES IN THE PARISH 

tion of family trees the clerical nurseryman 
pocketed other pay. It was discovered 
that the bounds of the Prime Ancient 
Society contained a most interesting and 
varied assortment of domestic growths. A 
little study and watch care, the fertilization 
of dust from the Town House vaults, an 
application of midnight oil to the growing 
sprouts, the proper pruning and a sufficient 
stay in congenial atmosphere — behold there 
emerge fine and robust products, one 
seldom looks upon nobler specimens of the 
genealogist's craft and culture. 



What a stalwart, prolific plant is the 
Burr tree — the original Jehu Burr stock! 
And this is a tree so persistently and enthu- 
siastically cultivated that it gives one little 
difficulty to start fresh shoots (on paper) 
and transplant such saplings to all parts of 
the land. The thing which struck the nurs- 
eryman with greatest force in his friendly 
care of this tree was its vast and vigorous 
ramifications — the life careering through 
such numerous offshoots and expressing 
itself with such characteristic vitality. 

Forefather Jehu came over with Win- 
throp's fleet in 1630, tarrying a brief spell 

[99] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

in Roxbury, passing on with Pynchon to 
the valley lands of the Connecticut river, 
finally attracted to Ludlow's town in 1644 
where he settled down for good and entered 
at once upon the discharge of numerous 
public tasks. His personal force and mas- 
terful leadership have been cropping out 
through a numerous posterity in America 
for two hundred and seventy years. The 
annals of the Prime Ancient Society are 
thickly embroidered with their works. 

Chief Justice Peter Burr, who went up 
to Boston in early manhood and made his 
mark as schoolmaster, returned to his 
native colony at the call of duty and lived 
his very active life wholly devoted to public 
trusts, holding so many offices that fingers 
and thumbs are not enough to number 
them; during one year he served as Auditor, 
Assistant, Judge of the Probate Court, 
Judge of the County Court and Chief 
Judge of the Superior Court. 

We read in the first volume of the Parish 
Records: "March 4th 1715-16. Aaron, 
son of Mr. Daniel Burr of Upper Meadow, 
baptised." 

A lively, handsome, aspiring youth, 
Aaron Burr graduated from Yale in 1738, 
and entered immediately upon a note- 

[100] 



FAMILY TREES IN THE PARISH 

worthy career, leaving behind him most 
delightful memories of fruitful days. The 
eloquent young scholar stood to the fore 
in the founding of the College of New Jer- 
sey, accepting the presidency the second 
year of its life, shaping to a large extent 
the course of the institution for many pros- 
perous years. As to his marriage writes 
a friend in the New York Gazette, July 
20th, 1752, "I shall not descend to partic- 
ulars, but only observe in general that for 
some centuries, I suppose there has not 
been one more in the patriarchal mode." 

Another correspondent, a student in 
Princeton at the time, describes the mode: 
"During his (President Burr's) absence, he 
made a visit of but three days, to the Rev. 
Mr. Edwards' daughter at Stockbridge; 
in which short time, though he had no 
acquaintance, nor had ever seen the lady 
these six years, I suppose he accomplished 
his whole design, for it was not above a 
fortnight after his return here, before he 
sent a young fellow . . . into New 
England to conduct her and her mother 
down here. They came to town Saturday 
evening the 27th and on Monday evening 
following, the nuptial ceremonies were 

[ 101 ] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

celebrated between Mr. Burr and the 

young lady." 

The town of his nativity was very dear 
to President Burr. His first sermon was 
preached in the upper part of the parish 
and he made frequent visits to the old, 
loved scenes. 

It was quite natural that Colonel Aaron, 
the son, should haunt these same familiar 
scenes so intimately entwined with ances- 
tral ties. During the period of young man- 
hood his was a figure often seen upon the 
streets and in the homes of the village. 
Many a prank he played upon his cousins 
and their friends, an endless flow of merry 
talk and captivating adventure regaling 
the company. The Rev. Samuel Spring, 
chaplain in Arnold's expedition against 
Quebec, and a long-time guest in town, 
tells how in the attack there was a heavy 
fall of snow: "Montgomery had fallen, the 
British troops were advancing toward the 
dead body, and little Burr was hastening 
from the fire of the enemy, up to his knees 
in snow, with Montgomery's body on his 
shoulders." These were the days of honor, 
promise and achievement. 

There is the record of a visit made sur- 
reptitiously to the home of his ancestors 

[ 10^2 1 



FAMILY TREES IN THE PARISH 

on the return from Europe after years of 
exile. Colonel Burr had arrived in Boston 
almost penniless. The very books which he 
brought with him were sold to raise money 
for his passage from Boston to New York. 
The sloop on which he made the trip was 
curiously under the command of a Captain 
distantly related to the lonely passenger 
and several of the crew had Burr blood in 
them. Reaching Southport harbor the 
Captain asked him to go ashore but he 
declined. Then in the quiet hours, as the 
sloop tarried for freight, this intellectual 
giant and ex- Vice-President of the United 
States, slipped away to the dear, old trysting 
places of youth, hid himself for reverie and 
retrospection beneath the kindly protection 
of ancient trees, gazed tenderly across hills 
and plains where the men of his clan had 
built their homes through the generations 
and silently made his way back to the ship 
which bore him once more into the strife 
of publicity and the bitter assault of mighty 
enemies, — a long afternoon of heartache, 
solitariness, bereavement and bold, deter- 
mined activity. 

One portion of our ancient parish goes 
by the name of Barlow's plain — the pleas- 
ant reminder of another honored family 

[103 1 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

whose tree has made rich with many shoots 
the history of our land. Samuel Barlow, 
the father of Joel, moved a little further 
back into the hill country about 1740; but 
a few miles more or less mattered little to 
the youth who became chaplain in the 
Revolutionary army, the writer of patriotic 
songs and a man of large affairs. The 
county capital was headquarters for good 
fellowship and the town shook its sides 
over the wit of the young poet, making him 
merrily welcome to the fraternity of good- 
cheer and patriotism. In April, 1786, he 
was here admitted to the Bar. 



These excursions into an historic past 
win their exceeding great reward, but 
truth and candor compel the parson to 
make an humble confession. He pays 
full price for all that he gets. Part of that 
price is paid in the current coin of precious 
hours devoted to an unbroken succession 
of callers who "stop in" — total strangers 
all of them — simply to make a few in- 
quiries about their ancestors and verify 
some ancient traditions. 

"If it is not asking too much of you, I 

rio4] 



FAMILY TREES IN THE PARISH 

wish you would go with me to the Town 
House and the Old Burying Ground." 

Alas, how many golden morning hours 
have been sacrificed upon the altar of 
strange and obscure genealogies ! Agreeable 
and instructive as many of these guests 
prove to be, it is a fact that a vast number 
of minutes will slip through the fingers while 
talk runs endlessly upon the inexhaustible 
theme. 

There are also the letters that array 
themselves upon the parson's desk and 
look him in the face with a heartless sort 
of stare until they have received proper 
notice. They come every day — they come 
with no enclosure of stamps — they make 
no apologies — they simply compliment the 
parson upon the breadth of his knowledge 
and the charm of his researches, concluding 
with an appalling string of queries: 

"I judge that you must have studied the 
ancient histories of these old towns and 
families very deeply and probably have 
considerable data and records in your 
possession, so I take the liberty of address- 
ing you." 

There follow four finely written pages 
of "fool's cap" paper, propounding some 

fl05] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

twenty obscure and complicated problems 
in genealogy: 

"I would like so much to have each 
branch of the Blank family entirely com- 
plete and I thought you would be able to 
give it to me." 

"I have traced also the families of the 
wives but there are quite a number of 
breaks in the links which I am sure you 
will be able to fill." 

"David married Susan Jane in 1754. 
I cannot find out when either was born 
but I presume you have the dates." 

"Jeremiah Blank the third, 1699, mar- 
ried Eunice Roe. Did he marry before 
he left Blankville and after he settled in 
your town.f^" 

"An old gentleman told me from memory 
about three of the Blank brothers during 
the Revolution. I guess he was mistaken 
in some things. Did they move west or 
what became of them? I shall wait your 
reply hoping that you will send me all the 
information necessary to finish my family 
tree." 

He leads a strenuous life who squares 
these accounts and clears his genealogical 
desk each day, which saying shall be illus- 
trated by a parable: 

[106] 



FAMILY TREES IN THE PARISH 

A parson by the name of Gray lived in 
a county capital, the "rose of New Eng- 
land." Once upon a time he became very 
ill. 

Said Mr. White, "They're having a 
council of doctors now." 

And Mr. Black said, "What is the mat- 
ter with him?" 

"Some new disease," was the reply. 
"It's a great day for new diseases. " 

There were many anxious people in the 
parish. The first thing which aroused 
their attention was the fact that the minis- 
ter preached repeatedly upon heredity. 
And then it was observed that in his calls 
he ran to talk upon family connections. 
Later he borrowed every genealogy in town 
and all the family letters and journals 
available. Another curious phase of his 
course was seen in a religious attendance 
upon all family re-unions held in the east. 
At the same time the postmaster noticed 
that the parson corresponded with many 
learned societies, both English and Ameri- 
can, heraldry and genealogy evidently 
being the prime objects of these organiza- 
tions. He also haunted the Town House, 
mousing among the old papers in the vaults 
and poring over the fine chirography of 

fl07l 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

town clerks with a concentration that was 
positively distracting. 

It was remarked that Mr. Gray's clothes 
had also grown seedy, the dust rising from 
garments whenever the wind blew or a 
parishioner shook his hand in greeting. 
Not that Mrs. Purple with whom he 
boarded did not take good care of him and 
his clothes; but simply that he lived in the 
dust of ages and the dust clung perversely 
to him. 

At last there were wrinkles upon his 
forehead and deep lines in his cheeks, 
accompanied by a startling loss of appetite, 
especially noticed when going out to tea, 
a thing occurring not oftener than five or 
six times a week. (Mr. Gray was a bach- 
elor.) 

Mrs. Purple reported that he spent sleep- 
less nights at this period. She heard him 
walking the study floor and on several 
occasions he had knocked down big books 
at two o'clock in the morning, making 
a tremendous racket. He was so absent- 
minded that when Mrs. White met him one 
day and said "Good afternoon," he replied, 
**Yes, her great-grandmother was a Flint 
and married John Skinn. All the Skinn- 
Flints of Boston are descended from them." 

[108] 



FAMILY TREES IN THE PARISH 

Mrs. White burst into tears and hurried 
down to the sewing-society to tell the ladies. 

Mr. Gray had lovely blue eyes when he 
was settled, but they had gradually turned 
red and to cap the climax he was now wear- 
ing green goggles, apparently thinking that 
green harmonized with red and blue. "A 
man with such taste must be unbalanced. " 

"He was a most methodical person," 
explained Mrs. Purple. "He gave his 
mornings to sermon work, interrupted fre- 
quently to be sure by strangers who talked 
with him about ancestors, collateral 
descent, heredity, first remove, second 
remove, broken links and such things; his 
afternoons were spent in pastoral visits as 
you all know and he wrote letters during 
his evenings. Why, I've seen as many as 
ten come to him in one day asking ques- 
tions about people's ancestors. I should 
think that every woman in the United 
States who wanted to join the Colonial 
Dames or the Daughters of the American 
Revolution and every man who wanted to 
join the Sons of the Colonial Wars or any 
other patriotic society wrote and asked him 
to make out a pedigree for them with names, 
dates, incidents and authorities. He's 
such a conscientious man that he never 

[109] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

shirks you know. He says he likes it. 
It's perfectly fascinating." 

While Mrs. Purple was talking to the 
assembled neighbors, they heard a feverish 
voice in an adjoining room shout, "I have 
it, I have it. His great-grandfather's 
second wife was a Herring. The Herrings 
are all Fishes on the mother's side. Gules 
a fesse ermine, between two doves argent. 
Spes Alit." 

"That's the way he goes on day and 
night now." 

"Did you say that he answered all those 
letters and talked with all these strange 
visitors?" inquired the consulting physician 
hastily summoned from the city. 

"Every one of them," was the reply. 

"I pity the pastor of an old New Eng- 
land church these days," said the doctor. 
The "disease is contagious. It spreads 
by correspondence." 

"Why," continued Mrs. Purple patheti- 
cally, "the last time he sat down to the tea 
table with us he never asked the blessing 
but put down his head and murmured: 

" 'Williams and Hone, Solomon Stone, 
The Hillses, the Millses and Anthony Cone, 

Ten men.' 

[110] 



FAMILY TREES IN THE PARISH 

"The children were awfully frightened. 
What did you say the disease was?" 

"Madam," it was Doctor Brown the 
eminent specialist speaking, "Mr. Gray has 
an alarming attack of genealogical prostra- 
tion. We must get him into the woods 
among the birds and animals where no 
pains are taken to register pedigree. By 
roughing it a year and taking regular doses 
of common sense I believe he will survive 
this collapse. Arboriculture has its fas- 
cinations but grave perils appertain to that 
particular phase of it known as the culture 
of Family Trees. It is not that the trees 
exude a gum or impart a poisonous scale, 
but in some inexplicable way a treacherous 
microbe often communicates itself to the 
unfortunate victim and in some cases death 
at the top has been known to ensue." 



nil 



IX 

PASTOR AND COLLEGE PRESIDENT 

When the Rev. Heman Humphrey came 
to Fairfield in 1807 the general conditions 
which prevailed throughout New England 
were dark and unhappy. 

The people of the new republic fretted 
over their formative work. The constitu- 
tion was only a few years old and it must 
be expounded, its principles embodied in 
laws and illustrated by specific cases. War 
had left scars, its legacy of poverty and 
suffering, its dire influence of rebellion and 
anarchy. England continued to harass 
the young nation while France had entered 
into such close fraternal relations with us 
that our students and youth aped her very 
sentiments, fashions and excesses. 

When Doctor Dwight exchanged his 
Greenfield parish for the headship of Yale 
College, infidelity was riotous in academic 
circles. The admiring disciples of Thomas 
Paine and Thomas Jefferson called them- 
selves by the names of the great French 
skeptics Voltaire, Rousseau and their com- 

f 112 1 



PASTOR AND COLLEGE PRESIDENT 

patriots. It was Doctor Dwight's first task 
— perhaps his chief task — to breast this 
wave of infidehty and marshal his students 
into phalanxes of average Christian faith. 
He was eminently successful and won a 
cordial and happy response. 

The local parishes of New England had 
become infected with the new old doc- 
trines. This was one condition which the 
new minister in Fairfield faced when he 
began his work here. 

Another condition had to do with the 
tone of life. One result of war had been 
the dulling of the moral sensibilities. The 
lawlessness and havoc which inevitably 
accompany warfare leave their trail. It 
is not alone that a country is infested with 
adventurers and mischief-makers, but men 
themselves grow careless, they yield to 
cruel impulses, they give way to riotous 
excesses. Although the spirit of patriot- 
ism flamed high in the hearts of American 
citizens, there was an indifference to order, 
decorum, sobriety and righteousness which 
appalled thoughtful, observant men. This 
parish, like the neighboring parishes, was 
infected with this bad contagion. And 
conditions had become more serious en 
account of the age and infirmity of Mr. 

9 [1131 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

Eliot. A man of abounding health, sterling 
worth, great moral strength and backbone, 
lofty spiritual ideals, was needed to quicken 
the people into fresh hope and pure life. 

The man for the place appeared in 
Heman Humphrey. He was a Connecticut 
son, born the year following the Declara- 
tion of Independence; his childhood was 
spent amid the trying and tempestuous 
scenes of the Revolution. 

His father was a farmer whose energies 
did not bring any large return of pros- 
perity. The son had a few months of 
schooling in the winter and spent the rest 
of the year in long days' labor on the 
ungracious soil. When this youth attained 
the age of seventeen he became the hired 
man on one or another neighbor's farm for 
a part of the year. His winter months 
were devoted to teaching the district school. 
The meager education which he had 
acquired by the help of the country peda- 
gogue had been notably supplemented by 
books in a small parish library. These 
few precious volumes — mostly history — 
broadened his horizon and kindled a 
desire for college education. As he read 
by the light of pine knots and the flicker- 
ing blaze eddying forth from the wide- 

Ciul 



PASTOR AND COLLEGE PRESIDENT 

mouthed fireplace, the very dimness and 
mystery of his surroundings excited imagi- 
nation and served to inspire the youth 
with high aims and hopes. When twenty 
years of age he passed through that experi- 
ence known as conversion, a radical 
change being wrought in heart and mind; 
life assumed new phases of interest to him, 
his desires and purposes now converged in 
preparation for the ministry. In six 
months of hard study he mastered enough 
Latin, Greek and mathematics to enter 
the junior year of Yale College. At grad- 
uation in 1805 he had the satisfaction of 
facing life free from debt, his schooling all 
paid by his own faithful work, the only 
help received from home being the clothes 
with which his self-denying mother sup- 
pHed him. What a fine, stimulating record, 
worthy our favor and emulation! 

The important event in his young man- 
hood was his association with President 
D wight. The alert, sensitive youth proved 
to be the kind of soil in which the great 
teacher at New Haven sowed the seed 
which yielded an extraordinary harvest. 
Like many of the sympathetic, apprecia- 
tive youth who came under the influence 
and inspiration of this remarkable leader 

[1151 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

at Yale, young Humphrey responded to 
his touch with a loyalty and enthusiasm 
most beautiful. Theological instruction 
those days was not pursued according to 
the present fashion. The college was a 
school of the prophets. It was originally 
founded and supported for the chief pur- 
pose of educating preachers of the gospel. 
Divinity was a part of the curriculum. 

But it was the fashion for students to 
settle in the family of some minister and 
there pursue their studies under the guid- 
ing hand of the pastor while these clerical 
apprentices were learning what we may 
call the technique of service. There were 
famous country preachers like Doctor Bel- 
lamy who had so many students in the home 
that it practically amounted to a divinity 
school. Following the custom young 
Humphrey went to Goshen, Connecticut, 
and became the student companion and 
helper of the Rev. Asahel Hooker. This 
part of his education was finished at the 
age of twenty-eight years. A unanimous 
call to preach in Fairfield was given Mr. 
Humphrey and on April 16, 1807, he was 
ordained and installed. 

Given the field and the man, results 
speedily became apparent. The new min- 

[1161 



PASTOR AND COLLEGE PRESIDENT 

ister had lighted his torch in the fire kindled 
by Doctor Dwight and it shed a clear, 
strong light from the first day of settle- 
ment. 

Religion was to the evangelical school 
of Dwight a larger thing than morality. 
It signified deep, fervent piety. So Mr. 
Humphrey induced the church to do 
away with the Half- Way Covenant and 
make a new record of membership in Zion. 
There must be the evidence of a changed 
life, the actual experience of religion, before 
a person could be received into the church. 
The force and faith of the new minister 
carried the people with him. And there 
must be a new confession of faith, a mod- 
ern, up-to-date statement of belief, one 
which incorporated the new spirit, the 
evangelistic method. It shows the firm 
grasp of affairs and the large personal 
influence on the part of this young preacher 
that he carried the day in making these 
changes and that he did it without any 
marked degree of antagonism or opposi- 
tion. His earnestness and sincerity, his 
extraordinary adaptability enabled him to 
do what the average minister would have 
found to be impossible. Then it is to be 
noted that he commanded the support of 

[117] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

certain eminent leaders in the parish, men 
Hke Judge Sherman and Deacon Judson. 
In truth the call to this pastorate had been 
unanimous and the people entertained 
great hopes of a vital service on the part 
of Mr. Humphrey. They knew that he 
came with aims and plans which might 
upset the ancient ways. If there were 
people who could not conscientiously 
rally to the support of his startling methods 
they had the grace and courtesy to give 
him a free hand and allow a new system 
to show its worth. The membership of 
the church was cut down half or two- 
thirds, but the roll showed a real member- 
ship, a living company of men and women 
who accepted the creed and tried to attain 
the standard set by the new order of 
church fidelity. There were evangelistic 
services, warm, exuberant, uplifting. The 
old, staid worshippers, the people of a 
former generation, were somewhat shocked 
by what they saw and heard. It was a 
re-appearance of the disquieting scenes 
witnessed during the career of Whitfield 
and his contemporaries in the colony. It 
was the adoption of means which became 
popular among the New Lights and the 
recently organized Methodist and Baptist 

[118] 



PASTOR AND COLLEGE PRESIDENT 

brethren. But President Dwight sanc- 
tioned this departure on the part of the 
orthodox churches or this recurrence to 
the ways of Edwards and the work pro- 
ceeded along the hues indicated. 

Social life in Fairfield at this time was 
characterized by considerable fashion and 
gaiety. Although people had not entirely 
recovered from the misfortunes of the 
American Revolution and the impoverish- 
ment of their estates or their business, yet 
they entered heartily into the conventional 
activities of society. A certain deplorable 
latitude and laxness marked these merry 
times. And the continued harassing of 
our ships on the part of England as well 
as our intimacy with French literature and 
French spirit fostered restlessness, passion 
and the conditions hostile to religion. 

When we recall the fact that the drink- 
ing customs of the day were exceedingly 
free, that strong liquor in various forms 
was seen on nearly every sideboard and 
offered to guest and workman alike with 
genial frequency, we are not surprised to 
read that a high type of spiritual life did 
not flourish. When Lyman Beecher, a 
contemporary of Mr. Humphrey, attended 
the ordination of a nearby neighbor, the 

[1191 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

minister's dining-room was redolent of 
rum and gin and lemons. The jollity of 
the company passed the bounds of decorum 
so that Mr. Beecher vowed a vow of 
reformation. Mr. Humphrey was startled 
when he observed the indifference of his 
parish upon this matter. Common indul- 
gence led to all sorts of excesses so that the 
tone and standard of religion had seriously 
deteriorated. Along with the zealous and 
eloquent preaching of a simple gospel Mr. 
Humphrey insisted upon sobriety, temper- 
ance, self-denial, strict adherence to the 
principles of an exalted morality. The 
very largeness of demands which he made 
upon his people awakened in them the 
desire and purpose to attain the new ideal 
set before them. His work as a reformer 
was important and distinctive. When 
the state association heard the voices of 
Lyman Beecher and Heman Humphrey in 
behalf of this great forward movement 
there was a significant response. Parish 
after parish took up the work and joined 
heartily in the endeavor to purify social 
conditions. 

The task assumed a special importance 
here in Fairfield for the reason that law- 
yers and litigants gathered regularly at 

[120] 



PASTOR AND COLLEGE PRESIDENT 

the sessions of the court while sailors and 
soldiers, tradesmen and gentlemen of 
leisure made their home in the shire town. 
The young minister had many a bout with 
his intellectual peers as they discussed the 
momentous questions which concerned 
their advantage and prosperity. It was a 
wide and far-reaching influence which he 
exerted over these men of intelligence and 
leadership. There were theological ser- 
mons covering the whole field of current 
thought and there were sermons, addresses, 
newspaper articles and pamphlets upon 
slavery, duelling, intemperance. Sabbath 
keeping, education, good morals, Ameri- 
can history, Indian rights, missions, gov- 
ernment and the various themes which the 
times suggested. He treated these mat- 
ters with a clearness, practicality and 
force which left no hearer or reader in 
doubt as to his precise meaning. He 
wrought wisely, unselfishly with profound 
sympathy for men. 

There were ten busy, earnest, fruitful 
years given to this work in Fairfield. And 
his service made him a conspicuous and 
influential man in New England. Other 
and larger churches sought him. Oppor- 
tunities for advancement came to him. 

[121] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

When he deemed it best to accept one of 
these invitations and enter upon a larger 
work, the break was distressing, for he 
had become endeared to this people and 
his labors here had been richly blessed. 
But the parish had not recovered from the 
setback given it in 1779. Business had 
never revived — had in fact been diverted 
to Newfield (Bridgeport). The stipend 
of the minister was insufficient for his 
expenses. Mr. Humphrey frankly stated 
the case and asked to be released when he 
decided to accept a call to the church in 
Pittsfield. "Painful is the necessity which 
has led me to take the first step toward 
securing a dismission from my present 
ministerial charge," he wrote in addressing 
the church. I will not quote his letter in 
full but simply record the meeting of Con- 
sociation, the expressions of heartfelt sor- 
row, the high praise given him for the 
splendid service rendered to Fairfield and 
Connecticut and the affectionate words of 
appreciation which were spoken at the 
time. 

Mr. Humphrey repeated his successful 
ministry in the Massachusetts parish; but 
his shining qualities as a leader so impressed 
the people of that region that they quite 

[122] 



PASTOR AND COLLEGE PRESIDENT 

naturally turned to him in the selection of 
a man to organize and conduct the new 
educational institution founded at Amherst. 
When he assumed the headship of this 
callow school the difficulties which beset 
the task seemed insurmountable. Many 
people were opposed to the founding and 
endowment of a new college in the state. 
Was not Harvard sufficient? But others 
believed that this fresh venture in the 
country would meet a common need. 
Doctor Humphrey agreed with them. He 
entered upon his life's great work with 
superb confidence and enthusiasm. For 
twenty-two years he gave himself with 
unstinted loyalty to the upbuilding of 
Amherst. It seems to me, according to the 
narrative of events, that he was the real 
maker of the institution. Buildings, endow- 
ments, competent and consecrated instruc- 
tors, a steadily increasing student body, 
the atmosphere and inspiration which 
constitute the true college — these all came 
at his bidding so that when the period of 
his service was concluded, he was able 
to rest from his labors with the sweet, 
happy consciousness that his arduous 
labors had been abundantly, magnifi- 
cently rewarded. He had impressed him- 

[123] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

self upon a young, hopeful, promising 
institution destined to take large part in 
the history of New England, the Christian 
ministry and collegiate education. He 
had profoundly impressed himself upon a 
notable company of young men who went 
forth to teach, to preach and to serve in 
many honorable capacities throughout the 
land — throughout the world. "Read the 
sermon on the mount every month of your 
life," said he to the students who entered 
his classroom. Such advice gives the key 
to his view of life. 

The quiet closing years were passed in 
Pittsfield — years freighted with precious 
memories and delightful associations — years 
devoted to a ministry at large extending to 
the length and breadth of our country. 

But the catalogue of achievements is 
not ended when we point to his service in 
the pastorate or his service as president of 
Amherst College. He was the author of 
ten or twelve volumes — covering a wide 
range of subjects — education, theology, 
travel, history, literature and morals. The 
influence which he exerted by his contribu- 
tions to the press and the varied literary 
activities of the day was far-reaching and 
vital. For men, young men had learned to 

f 124 1 



PASTOR AND COLLEGE PRESIDENT 

rely upon his judgment and advice. He 
represented all that was brave, true, fine, 
wholesome, manly, uplifting in private life 
and public service. 

The great temperance reform movement 
which he shared as leader with Dr. Lyman 
Beecher, Dr. Nathaniel Hewit and their 
associates links his name enduringly with 
the history of that magnificent fight for 
clean manhood. But his spirit could not 
be restricted to one particular line of effort 
in behalf of the better manhood. Every 
reform of the day found in him a sympa- 
thetic co-worker. He gave himself with 
hearty encouragement to each distinct 
cause. 

But he shone brightest as the man — the 
well-balanced, symmetrical man. "I have 
never known a man," says Doctor Todd, 
"who in my opinion came so near to being 
faultless." Practical and magnanimous, 
shrewd yet kindly, he was engaged in per- 
petual happy tasks for the benefit of his 
fellows. While pastor here he paid much 
attention to the schools which had always 
claimed the service of the minister. Observ- 
ing one day that the children had no backs 
to their benches in the schoolhouse and 
that for many of the children the benches 

[125 1 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

were so high that their feet did not reach 
the floor, he immediately ordered that 
backs should be made and the benches 
lowered. Humanity, the desire and pur- 
pose to sweeten and exalt all life. 

Integrity was stamped upon every 
action. He purchased a horse of a parish- 
ioner, agreeing to a certain price. "It is 
really worth ten dollars more than I am 
asking for it," remarked the owner. "But 
I must sell the animal. I need the money." 
"Well," observed Mr. Humphrey, "if I 
find that the horse is worth the extra ten 
dollars I will pay it." A few weeks' use 
convinced the minister that he had made a 
capital bargain so he paid the extra ten 
dollars with satisfaction. 

His love of children was like the refresh- 
ing grace of a hillside spring. He knew the 
way to young hearts and he pursued it 
with charm and joy unabated to the close 
of life. There was a home experience in 
this happy fellowship which equipped him 
for such association. Were there not ten 
olive branches in the sacred enclosure of 
his own family garden? Two of these 
daughters married ministers, three of these 
sons became ministers, another son studied 
law, attained eminence and was a member 

[126] 



PASTOR AND COLLEGE PRESIDENT 

of Congress. Various spheres in life were 
honorably served by these sons and daugh- 
ters. And all through the years this pub- 
lic spirited and tireless worker conducted 
himself with a humility and a simplicity 
which passed beyond criticism. He enjoyed 
his joke, a vein of humor pervaded his 
mental constitution. Christian service 
gave him many an opportunity to use it. 
You have heard of the recalcitrant farmer 
who refused to hear him preach. One day 
Doctor Humphrey called at his house while 
the farmer was cradling grain. As the 
pastor was seeking an interview with the 
man of the house he crossed the way into 
the field. But when the farmer saw him 
coming he dropped his cradle and disap- 
peared in the woods beyond. Nothing 
daunted the minister took off his coat, 
assumed the cradle and bent to the hard 
task until the setting sun and the finished 
field reminded him that he had well per- 
formed his service. Amazed and amused 
the farmer watched the vigorous swing of 
the minister's arm. He likewise appre- 
ciated the humor of the occasion. *' A man 
who can cut grain like that," said he 
admiringly, "is worth respect and friend- 
ship. I will hear him preach." On the 

[127] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

next Sunday this farmer appeared in the 
family pew. It was some months later that 
the shrewd, kindly minister observed a 
great change in the man and was finally 
privileged to number him among the 
saints. "I cradled him into the church," 
he facetiously remarked. 

With infinite tact, with love unfeigned 
and practically manifest he served benefi- 
cently his day and generation. It was a 
common saying, current in this parish 
long years after he had given over his work 
into other hands — a current saying when 
the heat of passion embroiled neighbors 
and crusty individuals fell out with each 
other — "Well, this would never have hap- 
pened if Mr. Humphrey had stayed with 
us." The angel of peace and good- will 
abode in his presence and fellowship. 



[128] 



X 

THE MUSE OF HISTORY 

The author of "Venetian Life," a book 
filled with beautiful word pictures, is a 
man whose views command our friendly 
heed. When Mr. Howells writes to the 
parson "I never saw any place that took 
me more than your old town," there is 
good reason to feel assured that the parish 
must be invested with many charms. The 
fine, generous handiwork of nature is 
apparent on every side. Art comes in 
for a share of the praise, inasmuch as arch- 
ing elms, velvet lawns, old-fashioned and 
new-fashioned gardens, restful Green, park- 
like hill-sides and similar man-trained de- 
vices enhance the native loveliness of the 
rural scenery. But history comes not short 
in its liberal contributions to the attrac- 
tions of the parish. So it was foreordained 
that on a certain 17th of June — Bunker 
Hill Day — a few kindred spirits should 
meet in Sherman parsonage and organize 
an Historical Society. 

The Muse of History had long ago 

10 [ 129 1 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

inspired children of the forefathers to 
rebuild the tombs of their ancestors and 
mark sites of local interest. The Daugh- 
ters of the American Revolution, aflame 
with patriotic zeal, set a huge boulder on 
the Green declaring in words of brass that 
the place was the center of civic, military 
and religious life for eight or nine genera- 
tions. And the Daughters erected a memo- 
rial fountain in a western portion of the 
old parish, dedicating it with appropriate 
ceremonies. Felicitous and persuasive are 
these services "rendered for love of 
country." 

The Memorial Day on which the Daugh- 
ters unveiled a tablet put upon the lich- 
gate of the ancient "Burial Hill" is a day 
long to be treasured. The thick curtain 
of gray cloud gave a somber aspect to the 
great assemblage strangely in keeping 
with the calm and solemnity of the hour. 
Ancient God's Acre became that day a 
trysting-place of four centuries: The 
Seventeenth Century, age of pioneer strug- 
gle and dawning of the larger hope; The 
Eighteenth Century, age of stern and bit- 
ter fight for liberty, our Star-spangled 
Banner unfurled to the breezes; The 
Nineteenth Century, age of irrepressible 

[1301 



THE MUSE OF HISTORY 

conflict, civil war, moral and political 
readjustment, "with malice toward none 
and charity toward all"; The Twentieth 
Century, age of infinite opportunity and 
glorious promise, the young, buoyant, 
matchless Century, with "leadership in 
progress and righteousness," America's 
watchword. The four Centuries seemed 
to meet and stretch their hands in silent 
benediction above the hushed company. 
When the roster of citizen soldiers and 
patriot statesmen was read and we remem- 
bered that the sacred dust of their bodies 
here reposed, the past came back with 
all tenderness and inspiration. The place 
was peopled with shadowy forms— the 
forefathers walked mysteriously among us. 
"Benefactors, you are welcome," said 
the multitude doing homage to the hon- 
ored sires. "Amid the living green of 
spring and radiancy of flowers and melody 
of songful birds and sweet prophetic fra- 
grance of nature, we greet you, spirits of 
the just made perfect. You live in the 
proud and grateful remembrance of your 
children's children. You live in the abid- 
ing, triumphant works achieved through 
your many sacrifices. You live in us and 
you live with us even while you live the 

[131] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

blessed life above, clothed upon with 
immortality, happy in the glorious cit- 
izenship of heaven." To such thought 
and speech were the people stirred. "All 
hail. We pledge you our word of honor — 
this Fatherland shall be preserved true 
and free. So help us God." 

Did not our hearts thrill while we stood 
beneath the cloud and entered this noble 
fellowship .f^ Such days give an impulse 
to love and a sanctity to patriotism meas- 
ured only by the good great deeds of 
unselfish devotion to native-land. 

This fine example of loyalty to the past 
set by the women of the town had already 
prepared the way for the later organization 
whose object was the enrichment of life 
through familiarity with local annals and 
achievements. 

A vast amount of priceless material 
for writing history has been lost during 
the preceding generations through the 
carelessness of heirs and the indifference 
of people in general. 

The experience that came to a friend of 
the parson's is not uncommon. This 
friend inherited a colonial estate handed 
down for many generations. The ancient 
house had a garret whose amplitude was 

[132] 



THE MUSE OF HISTORY 

tested to full capacity by the multitude 
and variety of family heirlooms. In a 
thoughtless moment the owner of the 
property leased the place and gave the 
occupant permission to **clean house." 
Little did this inheritor of the farm suspect 
that the "house-cleaning" would extend 
to the garret, but what was his dismay and 
horror to learn on his next visit that the 
tenants in their fanatical desire to put 
everything in a state of naked cleanliness 
had started with the garret, dumping into 
the back-yard all the dust-begrimed let- 
ters, journals, torn books, newspapers, 
broken keepsakes, antique decayed pieces 
of furniture and similar stuff — the whole 
making a jolly bon-fire and illumi- 
nation. Needless to say that good manners 
were scattered to the four winds on this 
occasion and the wronged, indignant pro- 
prietor gave his tenants a "piece of his 
mind," but it availed nothing — a case of 
locked barn after the horse was stolen. 

One of the prime aims of the co-workers 
in town was to possess a treasure-house in 
which to collect the objects illustrative of 
local history. One and another enthusiast 
had made pilgrimages to Deerfield, Con- 
cord and Plymouth. Why not modestly 

[133] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

follow the course marked out by these 
historic places and appeal to the pride and 
affection of the people? It is true that 
there is only one Plymouth Rock (although 
we have a piece of it in this parish as does 
many another favored town), and there 
will never be a second Concord with its 
monument to the Minute Men, its Mosses 
from an Old Manse, and a hundred his- 
toric and literary associations. And we 
can find just one unique, quiet, charming 
Deerfield on the map — the Deerfield of 
Mary Wilkins and the Indian massacre 
and the wild rough days of frontier con- 
flict. But let us not think that these are 
all the elect towns which have contributed 
to the working-out of our national destiny. 
They have done their large part. Honor 
them for it and rejoice that they have 
shown a proper spirit of appreciation in 
erecting the monuments and publishing 
the memorials which celebrate a distin- 
guished role in the colonial drama. 

We also bear a certain burden of responsi- 
bility. There are worthy names incor- 
porated in our town life, notable events 
dating back to words and deeds here 
spoken and achieved. They must be fit- 

[1341 



THE MUSE OF HISTORY 

tingly enshrined in order to the full and 
truthful record of national progress. 

The response to the patriotic impulse — 
the impulse to form a ''Society" — came 
quickly and when the original company 
of incorporators first met, the plan of 
campaign was distinctly outlined. 

A museum? Yes. And it shall be 
filled with the precious reminders of "a 
storied past." 

"I will give the old manuscripts that I 
have been collecting through the years," 
said one enthusiast. 

"I will commit to your keeping the 
genealogical works which I have used," 
said another friend. 

"You shall have all our family heirlooms 
when we have done with them," promised 
a third helper. And the spirit proved 
contagious so that wealth of material came 
into the Society's possession before the 
Society had "where to lay its head," 
although a fire-proof brick building soon 
threw open its doors and extended its 
hospitality — thus verifying the truth of 
the brave speech that "all things are possi- 
ble to him who wills." 

But a place and a collection are simply 
spurs to research, preservation of old land- 

[135] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

marks, watchcare over public records and 
a disinterested service in behalf of the 
town's fame — "the sort of thing we want,'* 
wrote Prof. John Fiske. 

Is not this one of the charms clinging 
to these old parishes — the vast resources 
which they afford in the way of fresh, 
original pursuit after historic facts, pro- 
vincial characters and incidents, the infi- 
nite details of local tradition and experience 
contributary to the greater movements 
which assume prominence in the nation's 
life? 

One day the parson was called to dis- 
charge the "last offices" over a stranger 
whose boyhood had been spent in the 
town — a descendant of the old stock. 

"Now you shall have the papers, jour- 
nals, correspondence and accumulated 
truck hidden away for ages under the 
eaves of the old house, the veriest rubbish 
in all the world," remarked the family. 
Such "finds" as this often prove a perfect 
treasure-trove to the quiet student of 
affairs. 

Not long ago the garret of a capacious 
mansion in town was subject to a thorough 
examination on the part of a friend and 
behold there lay hidden an ancient chest, 

f 1361 



THE MUSE OF HISTORY 

plethoric with all sorts of interesting docu- 
ments and books. There were letters 
proving that "Blank" had been "not alto- 
gether loyal," subscription lists to public 
improvements, the quaint rules of the vil- 
lage academy, deeds, accounts, bills, 
manuscript relating to the "Fire Sufferers" 
of 1779 and their interests in certain grants 
of land in Ohio south of Lake Erie, and 
other valuable material. But chief in the 
"find" was one of the ancient Town Record 
Books containing a great fund of informa- 
tion, supplementing the large collection 
already stored in the public vaults. The 
honored and long-time Town clerk had been 
accustomed to guard the book with special 
care, but it had been stowed away with 
such solicitude that it did not come to 
light for more than one generation. 

Many of these ancient volumes are 
crumbling into pieces or the indistinct 
chirography of the cursive hand is fast 
passing away like the shadowy lines of the 
original Declaration of Independence. 
This state of things gives the Historical 
Society an opportunity to show its mettle 
by the prosaic yet patriotic work of copying 
these records and making them more acces- 
sible while they are preserved for all time. 

[137] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

It was this spirit of loyalty to the "good 
of ages" that incited the Society to com- 
memorate the founding of the village 
academy. The school had reckoned among 
its teachers such eminent men as Doctor 
Humphrey, President of Amherst College, 
Doctor Baldwin, President of Marietta, 
Doctor Pearce, President of Western Re- 
serve College, Doctor Moore, Moderator 
of the Presbyterian General Assembly, 
Doctor March, preacher and author, Henry 
Dutton, Governor of Connecticut, Henry 
Day, member of the New York Bar and 
other leaders not less distinguished. 

A large company of pupils had gone out 
into the world to strengthen the nation's 
life and make glad the hearts of brother 
workers. These venerable country acad- 
emies were the mainstay of higher educa- 
tion and the chief feeders of college classes 
for generations. The rugged, energetic 
products of their training filled the high 
places of trust and enterprise in the nation. 
No single agency has done more to empha- 
size the importance of various country 
parishes than these small, modest institu- 
tions. Recall the work done on Green- 
field Hill in its academy during the head- 
ship of Timothy Dwight. It was a fine 

[138] 



I 



THE MUSE OF HISTORY 

social, intellectual leaven for all the state. 
The fame achieved amid his rural surround- 
ings elected the country preacher and 
teacher to the Presidency of Yale College. 
Call to mind the history of education in 
Litchfield and mark what controlling 
influences have streamed forth from its 
institutions. These village schools have 
been the honor of New England, priceless 
gems in the diadem of her good name. 

On the day of this anniversary to which 
reference has been made, it was delight- 
ful yet pathetic to hear the greetings and 
witness the fellowship. There were old 
pupils present who had not seen each 
other for sixty years. When one of the 
speakers referred to a little boat which 
he and his comrades had built some three- 
score years ago and named for a certain 
attractive Miss who commanded his homage 
at the time, it touched the heart to the 
quick to observe as the name was repeated 
that the Miss of long-ago sat sweetly 
observant in the Hall, joyous and hope- 
ful — the gleam of youth apparently bright 
and fadeless in her eyes. The bench full 
of stately, venerated matrons gracing the 
occasion — ladies whose recollections went 
back to the thirties — taught the younger 

f 139 1 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

generations unforgetable lessons in the 
art of youth's perennial renewal. 

It is the happy privilege of an Historical 
Society to put into good shape and per- 
manent the annals which too often pass 
into oblivion. Some day the world awak- 
ens to an interest in a man who has 
achieved one of the great engineering feats 
of all time. Where was he born, who 
trained him, what school pointed out to 
him the way.^ He was a country lad, the 
great-grandson of a Revolutionary hero 
and inventor, an industrious self-support- 
ing student in the village academy. What 
is the secret of his success? The free, 
independent, laborious life on a farm, the 
good schooling in the hill-town seminary, 
and the inspiration of a mother who be- 
lieved in his destiny. 

People must know these things. There 
are no aspersions to be cast upon city 
breeding. All honor to the youth, the 
man who profits by his metropolitan 
opportunity and forges to the front in the 
world's affairs. But the countrybred lad 
has the tremendous advantage of nature, 
simplicity, hard work, trained senses, 
robust physical inheritance, constant incen- 
tive to self-betterment and an early envi- 

[140] 



THE MUSE OF HISTORY 

ronment favorable to thought and the 
life of systematic, painstaking endeavor. 

A country parish is always a nursery 
for the city worker, the man of large gifts, 
the genius of great affairs. The name 
Marquand occurs in the old records of the 
Prime Ancient Society many times. There 
were two sons who, like many compeers, 
sought the city for the larger exercise of 
powers. Their names are inextricably 
linked with the progress of education in 
this land — the one bestowing munificent 
endowTuents upon institutions and erect- 
ing noble structures for many forms of 
Christian work, the other kindling a gen- 
uine enthusiasm for art in thousands of 
minds, making rich with services and treas- 
ures the Metropolitan Museum. The 
nation is put in debt to these men for 
their splendid, generous contributions to 
civic and national achievement. The 
ShefiSeld Scientific School, founded and 
endowed by a son of our town, is another 
efflorescence of this same munificent spirit. 

An occasional visitor who summered 
for many years in a near-by parish, drawn 
thither by early attachments, is an inter- 
esting example of the service done by 
these country boys. The farm, the church, 

f 1411 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

the common school and a brief stay at the 
village academy prepared Francis A. 
Palmer for earning his own living and 
making a way in the world. He saved 
money from the first days of work. Al- 
though a "close" man and shrewd at a 
bargain he loved to share earnings and 
savings with deserving people and the 
institutions which won his approval. 

There was one absorbing desire and 
object, however, which shaped his liber- 
ality through all the years of his long and 
arduous struggle. He took special inter- 
est in young people from the country 
seeking an education. This ambitious 
man "had the sense to feel the loss he had 
sustained by his lack of early education" 
remarked the New York Independent edi- 
torially commenting with favor upon his 
career. He wished that his large wealth 
should go to giving youth of small means 
in country districts the educational privi- 
leges which he had not enjoyed. So the 
little colleges and the village seminaries 
north, south, east and west advantaged by 
his kind, sane interest in their prosperity, 
hundreds of thousands of dollars going 
into their treasuries. 

The happy consummation of his life's 

[142 1 



THE MUSE OF HISTORY 

supreme aim was most generously realized 
in the founding and endowment of a Trust 
bearing his own name — the income of 
which is to be devoted to the help of the 
young people and the institutions always 
so near to his heart. "The best invest- 
ments which I have ever made in the shape 
of financial aid/' observed an eminent 
philanthropist the life-long friend of this 
benefactor, "were those given for the 
education of some forty picked young 
men whom I have sent out into the world 
as my representatives." 

"Yes, yes," assented this creator of the 
munificent Fund, "and these are my best 
investments and I mean that they shall 
increase and multiply through all coming 
ages, an honor to church and state, nation 
and humanity." 

Is it not worth while to commemorate 
the services of such wise helpers? Will 
it not encourage many a hard pressed, 
ambitious youth to most strenuous effort.^ 
Let the Register of Honor, the Book of 
True Men and Golden Deeds be made and 
held in reverence by every parish. 



[1431 



XI 

HAPPY SUMMER GUESTS 

The large migration from city to country 
during the summer months is more than 
whim, caprice or native restlessness. It 
is one sign of a new awakening. The desire 
strengthens on the part of the average man 
to read at first hand "In Nature's infinite 
book of secrecy." It is a happy omen and 
mitigating circumstance coincident with 
the mad rush of the day's social and indus- 
trial competition. 

Do not the birds have their northern and 
their southern homes.? How they love to 
travel in vast flocks when the season warns 
them of approaching change! 

" The birds against the April wind 
Flew northward, singing as they flew." 

Field, mountain, river, forest, seaside, 
garden bid all welcome to their sacred, 
glorious precincts. 

" Come out beneath the iinmastered sky. 
With its emancipating spaces, 
And learn to sing as well as I, 
Without premeditated graces." 
[144] 




o: 



mi 
33; 



HAPPY SUMMER GUESTS 

And yet how large is the multitude of 
humble folk who never chance to smell the 
fragrant new-mown hay or recline on some 
woodland bed of mosses and yield to the 
charm of a babbling brook? 

"I chatter over stony ways 
In little sharps and trebles, 
I bubble into eddying bays, 
I babble on the pebbles." 

But the day came sweet and clear when 
it seemed to the parson and the company 
of joyous helpers that some "prisoners of 
poverty" might be given the freedom of 
the country. Had we read pathetic stories 
about the "little mothers" to no purpose.'^ 
When the newspapers made appalling revel- 
ations of cruelty and wickedness on the part 
of "sweaters, " when burdened missionaries 
told the tale of the "submerged tenth" 
and said "Listen to the bitter cry of the 
outcast," did not the heart burn within us.'^ 

There was a loyal response to the sug- 
gestion that we make a summer home for 
such small people as our means would 
support. 

"I will discover some quiet, sheltered 
resting-place," said one great-hearted 
friend. And "Elm Cottage," lying under 
the shade of massive, beautiful trees, near 

11 [145] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

enough to the sea so that the waves sang 
a lullaby if the mood was upon them, snug, 
modest "Elm Cottage" said, "I am what 
you seek." 

"We will gather the simple furnishings 
that are needed," remarked the young 
folks, delighted to share in a service so 
tender and fruitful. Another royal friend 
said, "I will send you blankets, counter- 
panes, pillows and cots — cunning iron 
cots — like those upon which the children 
lie in the hospital." 

And the ladies, always swift to lend a 
helping hand, promised linen, kitchen- 
fixings and the hundred details of plain 
housekeeping. 

They were busy days — the days preced- 
ing the opening of the Home in June. 
Everything must be spick and span clean. 
Books and playthings with pictures for 
their pleasure came from many sources. 
A flag to adorn the flag-pole on the roof 
appeared one day. Swings and hammocks, 
carts and dolls, checked gingham aprons 
for week-days and white with delicate dots 
of red for Sunday, broad brimmed hats 
for the shore and bathing suits for the sea — 
what a generous preparation it was and 

[1461 



HAPPY SUMMER GUESTS 

love beat strong in the heart while young 
and old took part in the jolly task! 

A big 'bus met the little girls at the 
station. How they tumbled over each 
other in their eagerness and merriment, 
bundles flying hither and thither — (they 
always travel with bundles, these Fresh 
Air guests) — how they sang and giggled 
and shouted as they swung up the street 
through the town! 

"Did you ever come into the country 
before?" 

"No, sir," answered a dozen voices. 
"Where are the cows?" and their keen 
eyes roved over smooth-clipped lawns, 
along the noble arches made by the ancient 
elms, down into the wondrous gardens 
filled with endless variety of flowers, vege- 
tables and precious fruit-trees. 

"I want to see a robin." The wee girl 
had read her primer and now her dream 
was to come true. 

" Art thou the bird whom man loves best 
The pious bird with the scarlet breast?" 

The rehabilitated, ancient cottage gave 
them a merry w^elcome. 

"It's heavenly," piped up a thin, shrill 
voice as the speaker gazed upon green 

1147] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

fields and distant, shimmering sea. There 
was a rapturous expression steaHng over 
her pinched, weazened face, the blue of her 
eyes deepened, a delicate flush crept into 
her cheeks and an air of dreams subtly 
diffused itself about her person. 

The matron and her assistant had busy 
watchful days and nights. It is no easy 
task to keep peace and cheer among twenty 
or twenty-five strange little girls who tarry 
for two weeks in a country house — set 
back in the solitude and quietness of rural 
life. But had not the ladies agreed to take 
a kindly turn in the way of service and 
entertainment? So the days sped swiftly 
by filled with a delightful round of sports 
and pleasures. 

One morning it was to the beach for the 
gathering of shells and a dip in the sea, 
the afternoon being given to a tramp 
through some flower-strewn lot where the 
children plucked daisies and buttercups. 
At eventide they rolled on the lawn, 
jumped rope, swung bravely in hammocks, 
put numerous doll babies to bed and sang 
their merry songs, the popular airs of the 
day caught on the streets of the great city. 

Another day they were off for a ride — 
ten of them, twenty of them — horses and 

[148 J 



HAPPY SUMMER GUESTS 

wagonette or carryall loaned by the Lady 
Bountiful who thus served the children's 
pleasure year after year. They went back 
into the hills, or bowled along the mac- 
adam roads of the plain, shedding sunshine 
everywhere — gladness of heart overflowing 
like waters from the springs in our meadows. 

There are picnics and parties, ice cream 
and cake, apples and blackberries, an end- 
less succession of games and kindnesses. 
The Doctor "looked after" diet and 
health, the fatherly treasurer did a hun- 
dred beautiful deeds besides footing the 
bills, the ladies of the neighborhood made 
daily visits and looked after sundry needs 
and interests — everybody had a place in 
the heart for these annual guests. 

And the dollars to run this beneficent 
institution.^ They came with a delightful 
spontaneity. 

The midsummer event in town for years 
has been the Lawn Fete at the parsonage 
when everybody for miles around pays 
respects to the Fresh Air Association, 
bringing some contribution — cake, candy, 
fancy work, muslin aprons, bunches of 
sweet peas, great good cheer, friendly 
greetings — innumerable precious gifts. 
These home products and happy wishes, 

[149] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

passing from one guest to another with 
proper exchange of money, added to sums 
given by Earnest Workers netted annually 
the six or seven hundred dollars necessary 
to carry the work through the season. 
And best of all is the happy interchange 
of kindly feeling and hopeful sentiment — 
the bright hour spent socially beneath the 
shade of tulip, elm and maple on the 
ample lawn with perchance a merry song 
by the little guests from Elm Cottage, 
bringing the joy of a blessed charity 
straight home to the heart, an inspiration 
to nobler sacrifice and higher living. The 
company of friends embraces all ages, 
creeds and conditions, for the happiness 
of bestowing upon a humble child two 
weeks' wealth of gladsome country life 
draws the people into tender comradeship 
of service. 

Every Sunday morning these summer 
guests are given a place of honor in the 
church — their bright, interesting faces a 
constant study to the preacher — so near 
to him that every shade of expression is 
noticeable, now and then a drooping eye- 
lid or a smothered sigh intimating that 
one of the company has snatched a few 
minutes of sweet sleep. 

[150] 



HAPPY SUMMER GUESTS 

But it is the vesper hour under the 
grateful shield of the whispering trees at 
the Cottage which will be longest remem- 
bered. On Sunday afternoons the parson 
with his choir of children helpers, sweet 
singers of Israel, meets the city strangers 
and they worship together in Nature's 
temple. The slanting rays of the lowering 
sun sift through the trembling foliage, the 
nearby fields hush their myriad life into 
respectful silence, the low murmur of old 
ocean falls gently upon the ear, a sweet 
accompaniment. A prayer or two, a 
psalm repeated in unison, some simple 
responsive sentences and a brief lesson 
from the Book — with song upon song, 
sung with the glad vigor of childhood, 
often sweet and heart-moving, pervaded 
with the infinite pathos and tender faith 
and love of the child — thus the warp and 
the woof are woven into an exquisite seam- 
less garment of praise. May the recollec- 
tion of these blessed hours spent with God 
under Nature's arching splendors adorn 
and enrich the sensitive heart of the sum- 
mer guests! 

No ministry to human need has brought 
a larger compensation of uplift and hope- 
fulness to some of the workers than this 

1151] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

work among the children. And it has 
pointed the way to a direct and profitable 
fellowship between city and country, a 
service and partnership abounding in good 
promise. All honor to the Reverend Will- 
ard Parsons, father of this great thought 
and impulse! 



The parson has learned more than one 
helpful lesson in his contact with the little 
folks. There are startling revelations of 
life. The matron must go to the city to 
investigate these sad stories. A fresh pur- 
pose to do and give and suffer in behalf of 
human need is begotten. Opportunities 
to aid deserving poor open to the right and 
the left. Who can forget some of the 
incidents which are written in these curi- 
ous phases of experience? Here is the 
story of a self-respecting American, as she 
called herself: 

"I'd like to have mither and the children 
with me, you know," said one of the little 
mothers who came in August. 

"How many are there, child .f*" 

"Only six," was the quick reply, "and 
I'm the oldest. I'm nine and they call me 
* Little Mither.' I take care of the young 

[152] 



HAPPY SUMMER GUESTS 

'uns when mither goes out washing. Why, 
I can manage a baby as well as the nicest 
nurse you ever saw. And I can wash 
dishes and sweep and mend clothes and do 
lots of things just like a grown up." Hon- 
est pride glowed in her speech. 

"Poor thing!" whispered the matron. 

We had been getting acquainted with 
the last instalment of Fresh Air children — 
girls whose ages ranged from four to 
twelve. 

No sooner had they jumped out of the 
'bus than the noisy score flew into swings 
or hammocks, or tumbled over the soft 
turf, or raced through the pavilion and 
around the dormitory — shouting, teasing, 
crying, laughing — a small bedlam suddenly 
let loose amid the sultry quiet of a mid- 
summer afternoon. 

The thick slices of white bread and 
golden butter passed by the cook calmed 
their wild spirits for a few moments. 

"Please, mum," piped a tiny five-year- 
old, "I's used to coffee. The milk has 
scum on it." 

"Hush, you dago," hoarsely whispered 
an elder sister. "Mum's the word. Take 
what you can git." 

"And where is your father?" said the 

[153] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

matron, continuing our talk with Mary, 
the Little Mither. 

"Her real father's been dead ever so 
long," volunteered a frail hunchback. 
"She's got a stepfather and he drinks like 
a fish and her mother has to feed the whole 
kit of 'em." 

"But he's kind, when he's sober," cried 
Mary driven to the defense of her family's 
good name. 

"I don't care if he is," retorted the 
informer. "He's a deevil when drunk and 
makes it hot for all of yous, and the old 
woman, too. I'd fight him, I would — " 
and the speaker doubled her little fist, 
squaring off in fine pugilistic style. 

Now Mary won our hearts the first day 
of her stay. Sweet-tempered and truth- 
ful, patient with the patience of some old 
battle-scarred saint, swift to lend a hand in 
the oversight of the smaller children or the 
tidying up of the home, we felt a genuine 
liking for her. 

In a few days the "Little Mither" was 
rich with new shoes, half a dozen new 
dresses, proper underwear and all suitable 
gear. When the two weeks ended we 
voted to keep her with the next set, having 
received the mother's grateful assent; for 

[164] 



HAPPY SUMMER GUESTS 

Mary grew fat and rosy, strength came 
back to her limbs, the careworn hnes in 
her face were rubbed out and she was 
merry as a cricket, no longer the premature 
old woman, aged nine. 

One day a well-to-do farmer drove down 
our way, hitched his buggy in front of the 
cottage and sauntered through the yard. 

"I'm a lookin' for a gal," says he. 

"We have twenty of them." 

"But I want one to keep. I'm mighty 
well off. There ain't a better farmer'n 
our town if I do say it. And there hain't 
any mortgage on the farm either and it's 
all stocked. And between you and me" — 
this was spoken in low confidential tones — 
"I've got ten thousand dollars wuth of 
railroad stock that pays two per cent 
quarterly." 

The old gentleman looked me straight 
in the face, as much as to say, "Beat that 
if you can! " 

Then he continued: "But we lost our 
little gal nigh onto twenty-five years ago 
and mother'n me want to adopt one, see?" 
Another significant pause. "We'll give 
the child a good eddication, bring her up 
as one of the family and when we die 

[155] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

she'll have the farm'n stock. Good chance, 
ain't it?" 

"Friend," said I, "there's a little girl 
here who would make your home bright 
and happy. We'll see what can be done 
about it." 

A talk with Mary promised well, for the 
fair prospects of years cast a sort of spell 
over the child's imagination. 

"Yes," she answered after two days' 
reflection, "I'll go if mither'll spare me." 

So we sent the matron down to New 
York in order to consummate the arrange- 
ments. 

It was a wretched tenement in which 
the mother, her drunken, shiftless husband 
and six children were housed; one room 
on the sixth story, a few pieces of broken 
furniture shifting up and down the floor; 
heat, rank odors, stuffy air, unadulterated 
misery. 

"And air ye back agin," exclaimed not 
unkindly the mother as she caught sight 
of Mary in the doorway. "Child, there's 
not a crust o' bread to feed the six of yes, 
and no washin' for three days." 

At this point the matron stepped forward. 

"Yes, yes," said the mother with notes 
of appreciation running through her 

[156] 



HAPPY SUMMER GUESTS 

speech — "She looks foine — fat as a pet pig 
in ould Ireland. It's her first sight o' the 
counthrey." 

"And wouldn't you like to have Mary 
live in the country and grow up a lovely 
woman, rugged and happy?" observed 
the matron sympathetically. 

Then without waiting upon the mother's 
answer, she told her errand, picturing 
graphically the fine opportunities which 
must open to the child as a farmer's daugh- 
ter and the heiress of his farm and fortune. 

The mother stood with arms akimbo in 
the group of scantily clad and ill-fed chil- 
dren, the place reeking with poverty and 
wretchedness. "What?" she exclaimed, 
raising a stentorian voice, wrath flaming in 
her deep set eyes, "Give away me child?" 
There was silence for a moment. 

"I'm a self-respecting American." (She 
was born in Ireland.) "I'm a self-respect- 
ing American, mum," she repeated with a 
swelling pride which swallowed up the 
undertone of pain and anger. 

And the incident was closed. 



But there are other summer guests who 
spend happy vacations in the parish, vaca- 

[157] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

tions made joyous and beautiful through 
the beneficence of the three ladies — last 
of their line — who in gracious helpfulness 
for those who help themselves bequeathed 
their estate to found and sustain a Vaca- 
tion Home for Self-Supporting Women. 

The old mansion standing on a slight 
eminence overlooking field and meadow, 
ebb and flow of tide, sloping, shaded lawn 
and ancient Boston post road, is furnished 
just as the good people left it, the hand- 
some, substantial family heirlooms giving 
dignity, elegance and comfort to this 
place of rest. Here the workers share a 
family life joyous and care-free, blessing 
the kind and generous givers, renewing 
strength and hope for the strife of the 
world, taking back with them into daily 
toil something of the gentle, womanly 
spirit which devised the Gould Home and 
lingers in the place with benediction. 



11581 



XII 

AN EPISODE OF WAR 

A MASSIVE block of granite has been re- 
cently placed in the swamp on the south- 
western edge of our township. The simple 
inscription reads as follows: 

"The Great Swamp-Fight 
Here Ended 
The Pequot War 
July 13, 1637'' 

The Sons of the Colonial Wars have done 
a characteristically patriotic service in 
marking the site of the Pequots' last stand. 
There were days when the future of this 
early New England hung by a very tenuous 
thread, the Pequots being the large factor 
in this uncertainty of life tenure. It was 
war to the death between white man and 
red man. John Mason became the scourge 
which wrought the final havoc among the 
masterful savages of his day. "Thus was 
God seen in the Mount," writes the pious, 
sturdy soldier, "crushing his proud enemies 
and the enemies of his people." John 

[159] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

Fiske sententiously observes, "Truly the 
work was done with CromweHian thorough- 
ness." 

The fight with the fleeing remnant in the 
swamp may fittingly be reckoned as the 
first war episode pertaining to the history 
of the town, for it was this extermination 
of the Pequots which led Ludlow and his 
men down to these pleasant places and 
persuaded them to establish homes along 
these shores. The four narratives of the 
war, contemporary accounts by Mason, 
Underbill, Vincent and Gardener are curi- 
ous and fascinating reading — the flavor of 
quaint diction and pioneer spirit pervading 
every page. 

"About half an hour before day," writes 
Mason, "the Indians that were in the 
swamp attempted to break through Cap- 
tain Patrick's quarters; but were beaten 
back several times; they making a great 
noise, as their manner is at such times, 
it sounded round about our leaguer; . . . 
But the tumult growing to a very great 
height, we raised our siege; and marching 
up to the place, at a turning of the swamp 
the Indians were forcing out upon us; but 
we sent them back by our small shot. 
We, waiting a little for a second attempt — 

F 160 1 



AN EPISODE OF WAR 

the Indians in the meantime facing about, 
pressed violently upon Captain Patrick, 
breaking through his quarters and so 
escaped. There were about sixty or seventy 
as we were informed. We afterwards 
searched the swamp and found but few 
slain. The captives we took were about 
one hundred and eighty; whom we divided 
intending to keep as servants, but they 
could not endure that yoke." 

Poor, wretched barbarians! Driven 
from *' pillar to post" — truly the free, rov- 
ing creatures of the illimitable forest 
could "not endure that yoke." Rather 
than submit to it they tragically perish. 

The second war episode in the history 
of the town has a serio-comic aspect — a 
delicious morsel of incident, spiced to a 
healthy taste with adventure, redolent of 
quixotic courage and purpose. 

Dutchmen and Englishmen being "at 
daggers drawn" in 1653 the relations 
between the people of New Amsterdam and 
Connecticut were "strained." A freebooter 
from Rhode Island, with a commission 
from that colony, "under the common- 
wealth of England," brought a Dutch 
vessel into Black Rock harbor. The 
authorities of New Amsterdam sent two 

12 [ 161 1 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

men-of-war with one hundred men to 
attend to this matter so that consequent 
alarm and indignation were excited in 
town and along shore. The colonial gov- 
ernors of New England had been slow to 
respond when our citizens made earnest 
appeal for help against reported imminent 
Dutch aggression. In the emergency, 
therefore, Ludlow, who was then a colonial 
commissioner "invested," in conjunction 
with Captain Cullock, "with full power to 
agitate such occasions as concern the 
united colonies for Connecticut," decided 
that something must be done on the instant 
for the defense of the shore. 

A town-meeting was held and a vote 
passed to raise troops and make war on the 
Dutch. The little army was speedily 
brought into being, Ludlow appointed 
Commander-in-chief, and the troops gath- 
ered for drill on the Green. The sentiment 
for war seemed widespread. The town 
yielded itself to the subtle intoxication of 
the passing excitement. 

But Governor Eaton and the New Haven 
Court did not respond favorably to the 
movement, so impetuously organized. The 
Governor put before the Court Ludlow's 
announcement of his course, "all which 

[1621 



AN EPISODE OF WAR 

writings were read to the Court, after 
which the Court considered whether they 
were called at this time to send forth men 
against the Dutch, and after much debate 
and consultation . . . the Court by vote 
declared that . . . they see not themselves 
called to vote for a present war." 

Alas, Mr. Roger Ludlow finds himself in 
difficulties ! His war measures prove abor- 
tive. Enemies let fly at him their hostile 
speeches. Meanwhile a peace is concluded 
between Dutchland and England. The 
occasion of war sinks below the western 
horizon. A rankling memory of unwar- 
ranted speed of action lingers in the colo- 
nial breast and the town's second war epi- 
sode goes down into history. 

There was very little comedy in the 
third event of war. As headquarters for 
the leaders in shore defense through the 
years of the American Revolution — a very 
hot-bed of patriotic sentiment and en- 
deavor, where meetings of the Sons of 
Liberty were held, and frequent councils of 
war — the center and basis for local action 
in the great struggle for Independence — 
the home of many leaders in civil and mili- 
tary affairs — Fairfield was a special object 

[163] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

of resentment and assault on the part of 
the British. 

"All necessary preparations being made, 
on the 21st of November, 1780, at about 
4 o'clock P.M. I embarked my detachment, 
composed of two companies of dismounted 
dragoons, and in all short of 100 selected 
men," writes Colonel Tallmadge in a pri- 
vate autobiographic paper, "and the same 
evening, at 9 o'clock, we landed at a place 
on Long Island, called the Old Man's." 
Then follows an account of the taking Fort 
St. George — the demolishing of the enemy's 
works, burning of immense quantities of 
stores and shipping, the firing of the maga- 
zine and the return to Connecticut. "By 
mid-night or about 1 o'clock the next 
morning, every boat arrived at Fairfield 
beach, although we had entirely lost sight 
of each other by reason of the darkness 
of the night." The story is told in the 
Journals of Congress, December 4th and 
6th, 1780, Vol. VI. 

Numerous expeditions of a similar nature 
started from the harbor. And frequent 
whale-boat fights occurred off the shores; 
Captain Brewster received a medal from 
Congress and a letter of congratulation 

[164] 



AN EPISODE OF WAR 

from Washington in acknowledgment of 
his eminent services. 

When the British struck the blow that 
destroyed the village it was appalling in 
its force — shops, stores, offices, private 
residences and public buildings all being 
swallowed up in flames. Ten years later 
when Washington for the fourth time 
visited the historic place he notes in his 
journal the marks of ruin which re- 
mained at that period — the stark, black 
chimneys, the grass-mantled cellars and 
the torn, scarred trees. 

The next episode in war woven into the 
life of the old town is less tragical and 
important. It is properly an intimation 
of war peril rather than any set act of con- 
flict during the wild months of 1812 and 
'13. Admiral Cochrane's orders were to 
"destroy the coast towns and ravage the 
country." Repeatedly the enemy's fleet 
appeared off shore. The memory of crime, 
ravage and desolation dating back to 1779 
was vivid. Did the old foe purpose to 
repeat the scourge of fire and again seek to 
obliterate the town.^* 

Fort Union was rehabilitated and garri- 
soned with a little company of local militia, 
the men having been freshly supplied with 

[165] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

muskets, bayonets, cartridge boxes and 
belts, camp kettles, pans and pails, pick- 
axes, tin cups and other necessary accoutre- 
ment of war. The Green was again the 
scene of trainings and the accompanying 
excitement of strife. 

Guards stood watchful as ships sailed up 
and down the Sound; people slept with one 
eye open and an ear alert to the anticipated 
alarm. 

One day a British fleet drew nigh with 
apparent evil intent. An old twelve pound 
cannon was set up on the Green, the call 
to arms summoned a citizen soldiery to the 
number of nearly two thousand — and then 
the enemy sailed away. 

The people suffered all the pains of 
threatened struggle and ruin through these 
anxious, miserable days until the Peace of 
Ghent blew away the war clouds and the 
sky assumed its wonted aspect of tran- 
quillity. 

T* T* T" T* ^F 

The fifth episode of war occurred in the 
autumn of 1898. It was heralded by the 
President's declaration of war against 
Spain and consequent rumors flying thick 
and fast that Cervera's fleet was stealing 
along our coast, preparing like some huge 

[166] 



AN EPISODE OF WAR 

bird of prey, to swoop down upon us and 
play the mischief. The cry went up from 
timid hearts that Hke as not the Spanish 
gallants and hidalgos would take particular 
dehght in sending their shot and shell into 
every town and city within reach. But 
while the excitement was highest, a sudden 
subsidence of dread anticipation linked 
itself with the announcement that Cer- 
vera's fleet lay bottled up in the harbor of 
Santiago. 

The outbreak of war made a swift appeal 
to the sympathies of the American people, 
one response being noted in the multiplica- 
tion of Red Cross Auxiliaries. The local 
organization evoked all the latent zeal of 
the ladies. The first general meeting was 
held on June 28th in the Church parlors. 
Residents from all parts of the town joined 
hands in the work, with never a thought of 
sect or sectional distinction. Private sub- 
scriptions, and pubhc entertainments sup- 
phed the workers with abundant funds. 
Meeting followed meeting through the 
summer and autumn. A sub-auxihary 
was organized among the children. 

A printed report of the work and the 
many documents tracing the history of 
this community service are on the table 

[167] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

before the writer. What an interesting 
series of letters have been incorporated in 
the narrative, arranged with the orderH- 
ness and fidehty characteristic of the record 
keeper ! Here are business correspondence, 
letters from Generals and other officers, 
privates and nurses — each letter giving 
some fresh view of the situation. 

When our successors one and two hun- 
dred years later shall finger these papers 
preserved in the archives of the Historical 
Society, how close the age and event will 
appear to them and what tender emotions 
must arise in the heart ! 

But this is simply introductory to the 
gist of the matter. The government found 
itself inadequate to cope with the condition 
which it confronted late in the summer and 
early in the autumn. Its hospital resources 
were limited and insufficient. There was 
suffering from a congestion of numbers 
at Montauk Point and at other head- 
quarters for the sick. 

"We will lend a hand," said various 
hospitals in different parts of the land and 
our Fresh Air Association — an offer quickly 
accepted by the Government. 

On Wednesday evening September 14th, 
a message was received that the Home 

[168] 



AN EPISODE OF WAR 

would be needed for the convalescent sol- 
diers, and on Saturday the poor, sallow, 
emaciated, weak victims of fever, and other 
ills arrived, the intervening two days being 
filled with lively and enthusiastic tasks of 
preparation. 

The organization and management of a 
little hospital for seventeen convalescent 
soldiers doubtless seems a simple thing, 
but only the initiated know what it means. 
The experience is one never to be forgot- 
ten, educative, disciplinary and enriching. 
Pope hit the nail on the head when he 
observed that 

"Fools rush in where angels fear to tread," 

the particular fool in this case being the 
parson who suggested this service. It may 
be true under some circumstances that 

"Where ignorance is bliss 
'Tis folly to be wise," 

but under ordinary and extraordinary cir- 
cumstances knowledge is a very necessary 
part of equipment and men run tremen- 
dous risks in rashly taking matters of life 
and death into their unaccustomed hands. 
The parson makes these severe strictures 
as it occurred that the headship of this 

[169] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

work naturally came to the President of 
the Fresh Air Association. 

Beautiful was the spirit of love and patri- 
otism which as a prevailing impulse moved 
the entire community to rally for this 
work. Men, women, and children could 
not do enough for our favored guests. 
And that was the difficulty — such unstinted 
generosity and glad tender of service — 
such multiplicity of helpers and insistence 
that the help be utilized, made a very 
embarrassment of riches. There was more 
than enough to go round and several times 
over — provisions, medicines, flowers, news- 
papers and books, attendance and company, 
goodwill and prayers — everything to help 
the lower, the higher nature of man. 
There were days when the mere selection 
or rejection of things and people proved a 
herculean task. Who would give pain to 
a little child bringing a bouquet by saying 
that one hundred and twenty bouquets 
already graced the rooms and the doctor's 
orders had gone forth that the flowers 
must be removed from the ward? And 
when the soldier boys were able to lounge 
in the recreation tent and smoke a social 
cigar it was hard to say to one and another 
visitor — visitors who had come laden with 

[ 170 ] 



AN EPISODE OF WAR 

good things — that the boys had seen so 
many people the doctor forbade further 
interview. 

And yet the fellowship became delightful. 
For no sooner did the patients gain strength 
than they were given short or long rides 
through the country, back among the hills, 
down along the sea, charming little excur- 
sions were planned for them, they saun- 
tered through the streets of the town and 
basked in the sunshine. On these bright 
days they disburdened themselves of a 
hundred tales and reminiscences — telling 
about army life, the Philippines, Cuba, 
revealing the tragic secrets of war, pic- 
turing camps and marches, weaving in a 
good deal of autobiographic material, 
bringing the kindly, sympathetic hearers 
the freshest impressions of the life which 
had unfolded to them. 

The gratitude of these men amply paid 
their new-made friends. The strain of 
anxiety soon gave way to fair days of good 
fellowship. The first nights of worry and 
the incidental trials of adjustment having 
passed into oblivion, the happy season of 
mutual congratulation set in — halcyon 
days fragrant with blessed memories. 

It paid every partner — this unique, unf or- 
[171 J 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

getable incident of war. The Eunice 
Dennie Burr Chapter of the D.A.R. pro- 
vided the recreation tent, with all its fur- 
nishings and books, newspapers, stationery 
and games. 

The Dorothy Ripley Chapter of the 
D.A.R. gave all the drugs and medicines. 
Daughters, the story of your happiness in 
this gracious ministry has become a matter 
of record ! 

The American National Red Cross sent 
their supplies of jellies, liquors, soups, gro- 
ceries, with underwear, blankets and 
"housewives." 

Our townspeople and neighbors lavished 
all sorts of acceptable gifts and kind atten- 
tions upon the guests. 

It was a partnership shared by three or 
four hundred loyal men, women, boys, 
girls. Rector, priest and parson stand 
witness to the fact that it paid the partners 
many times over. 

It paid the nurses tireless and cheerful 
in their tender ministries. It paid the 
ward committee in their difficult and ardu- 
ous task. 

It paid the Fresh Air Association, 
emphasizing anew the worth and possi- 
bilities of such an institution. The work 

[1721 



AN EPISODE OF WAR 

reflected great credit upon individuals, 
churches, patriotic societies and the town. 
And it brought us real and lasting good — 
this fellowship of patriotism deepening in 
every heart the sense of common neighbor- 
hood fraternity, pointing to the larger life 
of a great, harmonious comradeship in all 
well-doing. 



[17S[ 



XIII 

MONUMENTAL BRICKS AND BOOKS 

John Cotton once remarked that ordi- 
narily "more benefit was obtained by con- 
versing with the dead than with the Hving." 
The typical parson of New England is a 
book man through and through — the 
writer of books, the reader of books, their 
owner and distributor and master. Thomas 
Parker discussing theology in English, 
then fleeing successively to Latin, Greek, 
Hebrew and finally clinching his argument 
in Arabic is a good illustration of the 
scholarship which prevailed among the 
old divines: 

" The calm delights 
Of unambitious piety he chose. 
And learning's solid dignity." 

One of the charms peculiar to a country 
parish is the precious leisure which may 
be honorably consecrated to books. This 
consecration presents several phases. 

It is to be expected that a minister will 
live up to the traditions of the past and 
hold perpetual converse with the wise, 

[174] 



MONUMENTAL BRICKS AND BOOKS 

strong leaders whose words and works 
have been incorporated in Hterature. That 
phase of the subject asks for Httle enforce- 
ment or illustration. It is enough to 
repeat the truism that the student and 
reader in the country is able to command 
his hours and conscientiously make the 
most of them, although he faces the assur- 
ance that when he attains a certain degree 
of conspicuousness the city will claim him 
and possibly entice the scholar away from 
his fruitful retirement. 

A friend of the parson's revelled in 
Hebrew points and vowels and similar 
oddities during the early years of his rural 
ministry; but people laid their hands 
upon him and dragged him into the Presi- 
dency of a college. One of the most genial 
and cultivated scholars of our state, 
honored with the degree of Doctor of 
Divinity by Yale, spent his quiet, happy 
days as a neighbor to the parson, content 
to let his light shine amid the modest 
surroundings of a small parish. 

Many a man of large and pressing tasks 
is driven away from the city strain and 
urgency that he may think, read, write 
and attend upon the various calls sounding 
vehemently in his ears. A three months' 

[175] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

or a four months' vacation with a Sabbatic 
year will hardly suffice these workers; and 
this forced flight into retirement, which 
saves a man's health and reason, is a 
frank confession that country life is the 
real hope of the world, the free, natural 
life lived near to nature's heart perpetu- 
ally imparting its sane and redemptive 
impulses to the rank and file of men con- 
gested in the shops, stores, offices, flats, 
tenements and hotels of the city. 

The reading ministers are not the men 
who preach in the conspicuous pulpits. 
Not that the city preacher fails in the 
love of books or that he lacks well-filled 
shelves in the library; it is simply that 
time is at a discount and he must pay such 
high price for the long, quiet fruitful hours 
of study that it often becomes virtually 
prohibitory. He reads to be sure — but 
the reading will be fragmentary and inter- 
rupted, hours filched from public service 
or pastoral duty, so that the sweetness 
and inspiration are forfeited. 

"You country preachers are the men of 
books and opportunities." Times with- 
out number these words have been repeated 
in the parson's hearing. Now and then 
some genius in the pulpit, a phenomenal 

[176] 



MONUMENTAL BRICKS AND BOOKS 

scholar, rich in physical resources, will 
glean the wide fields of literature, art and 
history, storing a capacious memory with 
vast treasures and assimilating their help; 
but these men are rare exceptions. The 
average city preacher must be servant to 
an ever increasing constituency, the de- 
mand for service expanding with the years 
until a day of break comes and his multi- 
form tasks are hurriedly passed into 
younger and stronger hands. 

The man who wisely adjusts himself to 
the country arranges the sacred times and 
seasons of arduous labor in his study and 
sticks faithfully to the schedule of book 
work through the years. It is his privi- 
lege to traverse the great literatures of 
ages — to take up one or another specialty 
and become authority upon his chosen 
subject. Here is a neighbor who has made 
Americana his pursuit and today ranks 
well among kindred spirits. Another 
neighbor makes the literature of economics 
and sociology the object of his earnest 
research. He attains such merit that a 
college elects him to a Chair in its Faculty. 
The preacher in another adjoining parish 
not only studies books but he loves the 
birds, the trees, the creatures of the wild 

13 [ 177 ] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

woods and wins their secrets, speedily 
attaining enviable position as a naturalist. 
Yes, it is the privilege of the country min- 
ister to read, ponder and inwardly digest 
while his city brother must either draw 
upon his capital gathered during early 
years or steal hours from night and insis- 
tent tasks or take long rests in the rural 
retreats when he strives to refill the ex- 
hausted cistern. 

The rural preacher may turn his thought 
and scholarship to good account in the 
way of book making, a second phase of 
the consecration named. The old parsons 
were famous writers, almost the only 
literary men of their day. The later par- 
sons have many competitors in this allur- 
ing field but they continue to hold their 
own. A fair proportion of such work is 
done by the man in the country parish, 
although the city will often take the credit 
for it. Many a preacher whose fame in 
scholarship and literature reflects honor 
upon his city charge, did all the work and 
achieved his success while serving his first 
church in the favoring atmosphere of rural 
life. There are other preachers who, 
aspiring to literary usefulness, wisely with- 
draw into the country and advantage by 

[178] 



MONUMENTAL BRICKS AND BOOKS 

the leisure which is happily given them. 
Their last days become their best days in 
the breadth and richness of their heart- 
touch with men through the medium of 
the book or the periodical. They give us 
the very essence and resultant wisdom of 
their experience. 

The high character and attainments of 
our country ministers occasion frequent 
remark, for the income of these men is 
generally meager and insufficient. The 
college-bred student finds no pecuniary 
inducement to enter the ministry in these 
days, when a thousand lucrative pursuits 
invite a man of brains and ambition. It 
is a life of self-denial and strict limitation. 
Nevertheless the community finds in the 
preacher a man of culture. 

The parson bears witness to the lofty 
standard which prevails in New England. 
It would be difficult to gather a stronger, 
more learned and more interesting company 
of professional men in any branch of serv- 
ice, or in any part of the land than often 
gathers for fellowship and inspiration in 
the neighborhood of the Prime Ancient 
Society. On one side is a brother who 
takes a prize among two or three hundred 
competitors from all over the English- 

[1791 



A COUNTRY PARISH 



speaking world for a book upon the English 
Bible. Another one of the brethren writes 
the biography of a famous man — a delight- 
ful narrative of struggle and triumph. A 
third interprets the various moods of 
nature and writes with exceptional charm 
concerning woodfolk and kindred creatures; 
his volumes have gained the popular ear, 
and won for the author an honored name. 
There are other members of the clerical 
fraternity who write upon history or 
dream dreams for the young people or sound 
the praises of Browning and Stevenson in 
critical, appreciative language. These 
men are simply representative of the com- 
mon intellectual life which abounds in 
these parishes. No marks of decadence 
here but the atmosphere and the associa- 
tions of ripe culture and stimulating 
activity. 

There is a third phase of this consecra- 
tion to books which presents itself with 
singular force in the country parish these 
days. The minister who is always sup- 
posed to be a book-lover, and who in 
many instances becomes a book-maker, 
will inevitably show his loyalty to the 
good of a town by taking his part in build- 
ing and sustaining the library. 

[1801 



MONUMENTAL BRICKS AND BOOKS 

A near-by parish, formerly included in 
the Prime Ancient Society, was the former 
home of a munificent giver who has founded 
and upbuilt a library of unique worth and 
importance. It will stand for all time as 
a tender and beautiful expression of local 
patriotism, great purpose and the love of 
knowledge. A member of the clerical 
fraternity has put his life into the careful 
selection of the books that deserve a place 
in this rare fellowship of history and lit- 
erature. As our Judge remarked on a 
public occasion, "I am utterly unable to 
pay adequate tribute to his tireless zeal.'* 

It is not possible for every count,ry 
minister to do what this worker has done — 
opportunities and the money to buy books 
like the first edition of EHot's Bible, First 
Letter of Columbus or the first edition of 
the Saybrook Platform or Vincent's Pe- 
quot War, do not come to the average 
book-buyer connected with a country 
library. It affords a scholar peculiar 
satisfaction to "pick up" such ancient 
books as Winslow's Good News, Mourt's 
Relation, and Purchas' History of the 
Pilgrims (the first, second and third edi- 
tions) a satisfaction enjoyed by the enthu- 
siast who visits the Pequot Library. 

[181] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

A great advance movement in education 
has been made during recent years through 
the multiphcation of pubHc Hbraries. The 
towns of Massachusetts set the world a 
noble example and Connecticut follows a 
close second with a library for well-nigh 
every town. And these institutions are 
the attractive, inspiring centers of intel- 
lectual and artistic life for the people. 
The edifices which house the books are 
generally built of stone or brick, ornamen- 
tal and instructive. Many of them are 
rare and beautiful specimens of architec- 
ture, like the classic monumental structure 

in Branford. 

* * * * * 

The parson counted it all joy when he 
was asked to lend a hand to several public- 
spirited citizens in their steadfast endeavor 
to rear and conduct a free public library 
in the eastern part of the parish, the feeling 
being that while the magnificent institu- 
tion in another part of the town was doing 
splendid service, a second library would 
make our people so much the richer and 
healthily stimulate the community life. 

It was not a difficult task to raise the 
money for the enterprise when it became 
apparent that a genuine interest in the 

[182] 



MONUMENTAL BRICKS AND BOOKS 

work existed. The keynote of the work 
sounded in the word ^'Memorial." The 
institution was to commemorate certain 
important historic events both national and 
local in character; and it was to commemo- 
rate the honorable and important services of 
certain eminent men whose names shone 
with steady luster in the firmament of 
Colonial and State history. 

The placing of the cornerstone one 
midsummer afternoon at five o'clock — 
the very hour for reminiscence, inspiration 
and prophecy — gave opportunity to set 
forth in fitting speech this controlling 
purpose; the gifted orator, Hon. James R. 
Sheffield, persuaded his hearers to be true 
to the lofty ideals of those who laid broad 
the foundations of the Republic and laid 
down their lives to perpetuate its insti- 
tutions. A tribute in verse by the popu- 
lar author, Mabel Osgood Wright, graced 
the service and fittingly consummated 
the formal act of placing the stone: 

"To Truth 
" With tongue and pen our fathers wrought 
To keep alive the flame of thought 
In sterner days. 

We by their sacred memories led 
To serve the living, praise the dead, 
This book-house raise. 

(183] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

Let every stone the masons lay 

Upon this corner sealed today 

Its witness bring 

Of strengthened brotherhood Divine, 

Of Truth to which this student's shrine 

Gives offering." 

A year later the books, arrayed in bright 
colors, stood alertly in their places like 
trained sentinels on duty, while the f ornr al 
act of dedication was performed before 
the hearthstone in the reading-room. Then 
the procession of directors, orators, and 
distinguished guests marched out upon 
the lawn and gathered under the grateful 
shade of old trees, facing a great throng 
of expectant people. Happy the parson 
who is privileged to preside on such an 
occasion ! 

A son of the town was the first speaker — 
Prof. Henry Fairfield Osborn, a scientist 
whose devotion to his chosen field of labor 
has made him widely known, lover of 
nature, well versed in her lore, a workman 
filling various places of importance: Pro- 
fessor in Columbia University, Curator 
of the Museum of Natural History in 
New York and later its President, Archse- 
ologist of the Smithsonian Institute. He 
addressed the company upon nature study. 
The library is to teach boys and girls, men 

[1S4] 



MONUMENTAL BRICKS AND BOOKS 

and women how to love flowers and care 
for them, how to preserve our beautiful 
scenery, how to enjoy and save the birds 
and our native animals, how to come into 
friendhest relations with this glorious 
world. 

The second speaker was a man of letters 
from Yale University, a critic of books, 
a book-maker, a book-lover, a scholar in 
English. Quite properly Prof. William 
Lyman Phelps' theme was books, and he 
reminded his hearers that we are all of us 
governed, not by the living but by the 
dead. The laws that we live under were 
made by men who have passed away. 
Our habits of thought are determined not 
by our associates but by people who have 
been dead many years. "Literature is 
fortunately the immortal part of history." 
"It is through books that we leave geo- 
graphical boundaries and become really 
in spirit citizens of the world." 

The third contributor to this "feast of 
reason" was the President of the Connec- 
ticut Historical Society, Doctor Hart, 
described by the friend who sat near him as 
"the incarnation of history." He led the 
thought of the assembly back to primitive 
days and the settlement of the town, 

[185 1 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

adverting to one and another incident 
which had been embroidered upon local 
history, dwelling on the importance of 
making the library a very mine of resources 
for study and research respecting the life 
of town, state and nation. "Everything 
that is needed for writing, everything that 
is needed for instruction, in regard to the 
history of this community should be found 
on your shelves and within your walls." 

It was reserved for Judge John H. Perry 
to remind the appreciative company that 
the first public library of the town, a 
stock enterprise, was founded about 1790, 
the second about 1813, the third and fourth 
in 1830, the fifth in 1858, the sixth and 
seventh in 1871, the eighth in 1875, the 
ninth in 1876 and the tenth in 1893 — these 
libraries extending their concatenated serv- 
ices through a century, and culminating 
in two attractive and convenient edifices 
with their sustaining endowments and the 
generous loyalty of their faithful friends. 

This leaf torn from the history of libra- 
ries in the old town is fairly typical of 
kindred movements in various New Eng- 
land districts and villages. 

The love of books is a ruling passion 
with the genuine son of the soil. The 

1186] 



MONUMENTAL BRICKS AND BOOKS 

church, the school and the library con- 
stitute a noble triumvirate determinative 
of destiny, both individual and national. 
"A book-lover is ordinarily a home lover,'* 
said the judge, "and a home lover is a 
community lover, and community love 
expressed in terms of action, but not 
otherwise, is good citizenship. EnHght- 
ened minds, willing hands, public spirit 
and the Puritan conscience are together 
omnipotent for good; and no one of them 
is greatest." 

The last speaker of the afternoon was 
the Ex-President of Yale University, Dr. 
Timothy Dwight, a gentleman who walked 
the streets and reposed under the shade 
of historic trees during the halcyon days 
of young manhood when love-light glows 
with its early radiancy in the eyes and 
"all the world loves a lover." 

It was most fitting that this scholar, 
author and leader in the wide realm of 
learning should bring greetings and felici- 
tations. "I beg you will allow me to say 
that the best way in my judgment, of 
reading history and of cultivating the mind 
by such reading, is to give oneself to the 
study for a considerable time of the rec- 
ords of some special period. What better 

[187 1 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

period can be selected than that of the 
establishment of our government, or that 
of the growth and progress of the country 
in the earlier half of the last century? 
Familiarize yourselves with all the history 
and literature and thought of those times, 
and make yourselves thereby as fully 
acquainted with the period as it is possible 
for us to be at such a removal of years. . . 
and then you will live with the people of 
the older age and know them as they 
knew one another." 

Wise words spoken on such occasions 
sink deep into the heart and kindle fresh 
fires of laudable aim and high service. 
These village libraries give the aspiring 
youth an opportunity to gaze "on the 
bright countenance of truth in the quiet 
and still air of delightful studies." Like 
Emerson, he finds "certain books vital and 
spermatic, not leaving the reader what he 
was; he shuts the book a richer man." 

Well may good friends extend congrat- 
ulations on such a red letter day. But 
the library does more than supply the 
community with literature. The people 
naturally gravitate to it as a center of 
high toned life. The classes meeting for 
a discussion of current topics, the little 

[1881 



MONUMENTAL BRICKS AND BOOKS 

coterie of students pursuing English his- 
tory or asking for knowledge of native 
birds, the young men reading on civics 
or Parliamentary law, the Audubon Society 
circulating illustrated lectures, the school 
board arranging for free talks upon educa- 
tion — these and a score of important 
interests discover in the library a large- 
hearted and stimulating helper. 

The opportunity for fine, true service 
is most alluring and full of promise. A 
student may reach through these channels 
a multitude of people quite beyond the 
scope of his ordinary ministry. His in- 
fluences will be felt in behalf of the best 
books, the purest thought, the loftiest 
endeavor, the broadest culture. It is 
given him by common consent to exercise 
a solicitous and helpful oversight respect- 
ing the things which represent the deepest 
and richest life of the town. The ministry 
at large in the average country parish is 
an important privilege. Education, morals, 
charity, civics, the lyceum, and the like 
turn to the worker as an ally. He mul- 
tiplies himself and preaches unconsciously, 
as well as uninterruptedly the gospel of 
light by means of these beautiful, benefi- 
cent messengers. 

[1891 



XIV 

THE parson's inheritance 

The promised visit of Senator Hoar was 
one of the pleasant incidents in the last 
year of his life. He had corresponded 
intermittently with the parson for a decade, 
searching for information upon some his- 
torical matters, and it had long been his 
wish and purpose to make a little pil- 
grimage to the town so intimately con- 
nected with the name and fame of his 
cousin, Judge Roger M. Sherman. The 
visit, all too brief, is a charming and de- 
lightful reminiscence. There was nothing 
to do by way of entertainment other than 
to lead the honorable senator from room to 
room and give him free opportunity to talk. 
His richly stored mind yielded a very 
wealth of anecdote, repartee and quotation, 
bringing to us the priceless gleanings of a 
notable career. 

"He was one of the greatest men of New 
England, the peer of Mason and Webster," 
he said, referring to Judge Sherman. 
"How this old mansion brings me face to 

[190] 



THE PARSON'S INHERITANCE 

face with him!" The Sherman family 
clock ticking the minutes and striking the 
hours as it stood in the corner of the west 
drawing-room set the visitor's flow of 
monologue in a new direction. Lingering 
with reverent gaze before the portraits of 
the Judge and his wife hanging in the east 
drawing-room, the visitor sketched with 
master hand the character of this wise, 
staunch Puritan. "Modesty and reserve 
clothed him like a garment but his great- 
ness refused to stay in hiding." Holding 
the small boy of the parsonage, Roger 
Sherman, upon his knee and placing his 
hands upon the child's head, "May his 
spirit rest upon you," was his benediction; 
and the Nestor of New England's public 
servants said adieu to the house, rich and 
suggestive with historic memories. 

It was a magnificent tribute which the 
Senator paid to Judge Sherman on the even- 
ing of that same day, when he addressed 
an audience of cultivated, patriotic New 
Englanders in our neighboring city. 

The early struggles of Roger Minott 
Sherman tested his mettle. Josiah Sher- 
man was a preacher, planning like the 
brethren to give a good education to his 
children ; but he was cut down in the flower 

[1911 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

of usefulness so that the boy in college 
found himself suddenly thrown upon his 
own resources. The kindness of Roger 
Sherman, the signer of the Declaration 
of Independence — his uncle — became a 
mainstay through the succeeding terms of 
college life, although the young man 
worked in self-support, while applying 
himself with zeal to his studies. He taught 
during his college course and the time that 
he studied law under the instructions of 
Judge Oliver Ellsworth and Judge Reeve. 
Later he served as tutor in Yale, and began 
the practice of law at Norwalk, whence he 
moved into our Prime Ancient Society in 
1807. 

His strong personality and eminent 
worth soon impressed the men of this 
state. Repeatedly the people called him 
to act in various official capacities — as 
representative in the lower house, as state 
senator, as associate judge of the Supreme 
Court of the state. Private circumstances 
compelled him to decline a nomination to 
Congress tendered him by friends. He 
was earnestly supported as a candidate 
for United States senator, to which posi- 
tion he would probably have been elected 
had he been willing to yield certain points. 

f 1921 



THE PARSON'S INHERITANCE 

He was a member of the Hartford Conven- 
tion in 1814 and one of the committee 
appointed to draw up a report to be pre- 
sented to the respective state legislatures. 

Mr. Sherman was frank and clear in 
stating the principal object of that famous 
meeting, his own words being as follows: 
"Its principal object was a more effectual 
cooperation in the war as to the defense of 
the New England states." Said he, "There 
is not the slightest foundation for impugn- 
ing the motives of these men, or stamp- 
ing the proceedings of the convention as 
treasonable. The delegates never con- 
templated an act inconsistent with their 
obligations to the United States." But 
his service on that occasion doubtless 
wrought disaster in respect to political 
advancement. He could not trim to the 
wind. True to conviction, he not seldom 
found himself at odds with the party in 
whose company he generally trained. 

A congenial atmosphere and the Court 
life drew Mr. Sherman to the County 
Seat. His extraordinary success won for 
him in a few years independent means — 
then came dreams of a home, the place 
of his choosing, walls of his rearing, 

14 [ 193 ] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

" the resort 
Of love, of joy, of peace and plenty; where 
Supporting and supported, polished friends 
And dear relations mingle into bliss." 

There was a small domain in the most 
attractive and central portion of the village 
which the prosperous young jurist coveted 
and acquired. Situated near the church 
and the court-house, on a slight elevation 
with gentle slope at the rear, commanding 
patches of sea view through intervening 
foliage, it was an ideal homestead lot, 
amplitude and fertility enhancing its other 
delightful features. 

The first mention of this property occurs 
in 1653 when the name of Robert Hawkins 
is connected with it in describing the 
boundaries of an adjoining piece, although 
no transfer to him or from him is recorded. 
Henry Lyon became its owner and he 
passed it by bill of sale, April 26, 1670, 
over to Thomas Wilson. This particular 
square or block was evidently alluring to 
men of substance, for we observe that the 
famous pioneer, Andrew Ward, lived next 
door on the left, while Law-maker and 
Lieutenant-Governor Roger Ludlow built 
his house on the corner still further to the 
left — a homestead lot — purchased and 

[194] 



THE PARSON'S INHERITANCE 

occupied after his departure by the wealthy 
and worshipful Major Nathan Gold. 

Thomas Staples lived on the northwest 
corner of the block, furthest removed 
from Mr. Ludlow, but the two families 
came into irritating and tempestuous rela- 
tions. 

In the inventory of Thomas Wilson's 
estate, in 1691, the house, barn and lot are 
appraised at one hundred pounds. The 
only child, Sarah, having reached a proper 
age, married Elnathan Hanford, son of the 
revered Norwalk minister, and spent her 
years which were few, on the homestead 
lot. 

Mr. Hanford, the disconsolate widower, 
heedful of prevailing sentiment and cus- 
tom, welcomed to the enjoyment of his 
deceased wife's little estate, a second help- 
meet in the person of Abigail Burr, widow 
of Daniel Lockwood. There was much 
good blood in her, for she had as grand- 
father and grandmother Nathaniel and 
Sarah Ludlow Brewster, and for great- 
grandfather the founder of the town. 
Although the great statesman had moved 
back to mother country and served the 
Commonwealth under Cromwell, a de- 
scendant lived in the square, not a stone's 

1195] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

throw from her ancestors' original pos- 
sessions. 

Thomas Hanford, the son, inherited the 
property appraised when his father died at 
five hundred pounds. Ann, the daughter 
of Gideon Allen and grand-daughter of 
former neighbor Andrew Ward, became 
his wife — a fresh intermingling of blue 
blood. When Mr. Hanford passed away 
his widow continued the use of his home- 
stead and later shared its joys with her 
second husband, Gershom Burr. 

There was only one child born to the 
second Thomas Hanford and his wife. 
This Sarah in due process of time entered 
upon her inheritance of the ancestral acres 
and first married Ebenezer Wakeman, the 
tale of whose life was soon told. Her 
second companion was Dr. Seth Warner. 

Mrs. Warner's only child, Thomas Han- 
ford Wakeman, born in the year 1755, 
next entered upon the inheritance, marry- 
ing Sarah Bradley June 4, 1776, on the 
eve of the supreme struggle for Independ- 
ence. Left a widow, Mrs. Wakeman 
became the consort of David Baldwin. 

Thomas Hanford Wakeman bequeathed 
all his property to Ebenezer Wakeman, 
Jr., a brother, but the homestead lot he 



THE PARSON'S INHERITANCE 

transferred while living to Sturges Lewis, 
who in turn passed it back to Mrs. Wake- 
man. As in the case of her mother-in-law, 
Wakeman-Warner, her grandmother-in-law, 
Hanford-Burr, and her great-grandfather- 
in-law, Elnathan Hanford, she joined 
destinies with a second life-companion. 
There was born to Dudley Baldwin and his 
wife Sarah Bradley Wakeman a son, 
Abraham D. Baldwin, afterward High 
Sheriff. The guardian of this child sold 
to Roger M. Sherman, by order of the 
General Assembly in their session of May, 
1808, this land in "the old society." The 
young lawyer also bought from Aaron 
Adams, Ebenezer Dimon, Jr., and James 
Knapp, small parcels of land which, added 
to the original purchase, made a precious 
domain of nine acres, more or less. 

It is interesting to trace the history of 
such a piece of real estate situated in a 
town possessing a wealth of old-time, sug- 
gestive associations. Here are names 
representative of station, culture, politics, 
ecclesiasticism, the various phases and 
forces of social, intellectual and patriotic 
activity. Hawkins, Wilson, Hanford, Lock- 
wood, Burr, Brewster, Ludlow, Allen, 
W^akeman, Ward, Warner, Bradley, 

[197] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

Knapp, Lewis, Baldwin, Sherman — the 
lives of these people have taken root in 
this soil, they have become identified to a 
degree with the fair acres spread before 
us; here is the stage across which comedy 
and tragedy have stalked once and again 
and many times, the very air and stones, 
ancient trees and modern flowers whisper- 
ing to each other and passing down their 
line strange stories of joy and sorrow, 
domestic transition and community inci- 
dent. 

One early day soon after the land came 
into possession of the white man through 
a trade with the Indians, a portion of it 
was said to be witch-haunted. Down in 
the fields wild and uncanny voices might 
be heard in the dead of night. There were 
other days when shadowy forms stained 
with war paint crept stealthily along the 
ground. And other days resounded with 
the tread of martial feet, booming cannon, 
clash of fire-arms, din of war, the hateful, 
vindictive, tumultuous roar of flames. 
And through all these changeful scenes 
there rings the merry call of children, 
their free laughter, and sprightly play- 
echoes of sweet, innocent, jolly pastimes 
ranging over garden, pasture, meadow and 

11981 



THE PARSON'S INHERITANCE 

orchard: the little Puritan lad in close 
fitting nankeen suit, broad white col- 
lar and cocked hat learning to shoot 
his first musket; the demure Abigail clad 
in bright flowered chintz with black bib 
and apron, a calico sunbonnet upon her 
head, taking her rag doll for a walk; the 
later throng of merry-making youngsters 
playing hide and seek or cops and robbers 
up and down the acres, scurrying amid 
the cows, the chickens, the swaying bushes, 
the watchful trees and nature's myriad 
life, — the very welkin resounding with 
their mad, mirthful humor. 



The mansion which Mr. Sherman built 
on this site was substantially constructed, 
its solid oak timbers made to withstand 
the ravage of ages, the material used from 
cellar to garret the very best. But that 
which stamped the house with distinction 
was the unique individuality expressed by 
its interior arrangements, its informing 
and transforming spirit being most properly 
the lady mistress. 

The family set up their household gods 
in the imposing structure during the sum- 
mer of '16. The receipted bills for various 

f 199 1 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

furnishments may be seen today lying 
orderly disposed in a cabinet of the Judge's 
old library. 

"R. Deming for sofa" $125 

W. W. & T. L. Chester for floor cloth . . $54.75 

" Mr. Elmendorf will please to pay these 
bills whenever the articles are sent on 
board." 

The shopping was done largely in New 
York and the stuff sent by boat to South- 
port. 

"April 30th 1816. New York 

Bought of W. W. & T. L, Chester-Carpet Warehouse, 
191 Broadway 

43^ yds brussels carpet $113 

Rug $ 23 

making $ 11.91 

Here is a bill of $53 for a claw tea-table 
and $22 for ladies' work-stand. In 1817 
the Judge paid $125 for a Grecian sofa 
and cushion. 

Augustus Johnston of New York sup- 
plied the china: 

6 Tureens 

4 doz. dining plates 

2 doz. large desert plates 

2 doz. small desert plates 

15 flat dishes 

2 covered dishes 

2 pudding dishes 

1-2 doz. custard cups 

[2001 



THE PARSON'S INHERITANCE 

3 scollup dishes 

1 pair fruit baskets 
A tea set of china 

A doz. china cofiFee cups 

2 dozen tea cups 
2 plates 

1 dozen cups and saucers and one basket 

$163.25 

When the Venetian bhnds were hung, 
we discover as Judge Sherman writes, 
"that they were not quite adapted to the 
windows. The cornices want to be four 
feet and eight inches long. These are 
therefore too short. I send them back by- 
Captain Keeler who will take another set 
and pay you the difference. . . I do 
not send the tassels. I make the exchange 
as you obligingly agreed when I took the 
bhnds. Your Most Obedient Servant 
etc." Ever the gentleman, straightfor- 
ward in dealings, pohte and particular in 
his phrases! This exchange of blinds, by 
the way, cost the Judge four dollars and 
thirty-eight cents. 

Peter D. Turcot of Maiden Lane sup- 
plied the curtains, the making of which 
cost twelve dollars, and the fringe thirty- 
eight dollars and twenty-five cents. Cap- 
tain Goodsell of the sloop Lapwing trans- 
ported these latter goods. 

[201] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

But when the house was done and all 
furnished it soon appeared that a begin- 
ning had simply been made. In the 
pleasant task of adjusting themselves to 
new conditions these good people dis- 
covered that certain changes were essen- 
tial to comfort. Wings must be added to 
the two front rooms, an extension to the 
right at the rear. A little later an inun- 
dation of books embarrassed the Judge 
so that another and larger wing on the 
left spread its generous protection over 
six or seven rooms, a private staircase 
and ten closets. The lower regions like- 
wise expanded, deepening into a sub- 
cellar, widening into a light and spacious 
room for fruit and other purposes. There 
were later increments at the rear, sugges- 
tive in their easy irregularity of conven- 
ience and hospitality. And stretching 
through the years there succeeded the 
innumerable changes among the closets, 
addition, subtraction, multiplication, and 
division, but principally multiplication, 
until their number actually reached the 
respectable sum of sixty. A house with 
sixty closets; its individuality now become 
historic. 

When Peter Parley tarried here with 

[202] 



THE PARSON'S INHERITANCE 

his friend, he discovered an ample closet 
in his chamber where the full-skirted 
fashionable coat of the day might hang in 
ample freedom. A visit from the Presi- 
dent of Yale College and Professor Green- 
leaf of Harvard gave opportunity to 
explain the intricacies of the Judge's 
closets for legal documents. The closets 
for hats, bonnets, preserves, linen, flannel 
and similar commodities were always ple- 
thoric, although the goodwife was a true 
Lady Bountiful and drew liberally upon 
these supplies for the needs of impecunious 
friends or sufferers. 

The hospitality of the Sherman mansion 
became proverbial. For many years master 
and mistress kept open house, entertain- 
ing judges, ministers, authors, statesmen, 
artists, the notable of the land — with 
charming grace and courtesy. It was a 
wide circle of associations formed by the 
Judge and his wife. Glancing casually 
through the books belonging to his private 
library — carefully preserved behind glass 
through the devout interest of one given 
to such patriotic services — the reader is 
impressed with the breadth and scope of 
the Judge's intellectual fellowship. Not a 
few of the books are presentation copies, 

[203] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

bearing the good wishes of the author. 
Public men often travelled this way in 
order that they might tarry the night 
with the Judge and discuss some important 
question of the day. 

His correspondence with contempora- 
ries has the flavor of vast learning and 
high-toned gentlemanliness. Governor 
Seward, Charles O'Conor, President 
Dwight, Aaron Burr, Professor Silliman, 
Senator Ferry, Judge Ellsworth, Secretary 
of the Treasury Woodbury, Attorney- 
General B. F. Butler, Governor Tomlin- 
son. Sir Robert Peel and a host of other 
public men are numbered with those eager 
to profit by his wisdom and counsel. 

Learned and patriotic societies invited 
him to speak before them — invitations 
which he modestly dechned. The churches 
of the state sought his advice and inspi- 
ration — a call which he felt constrained to 
heed. The reform movements of his day 
made their appeal to him and he stood 
forth the staunch friend of social progress. 
These unobtrusive testimonies to Judge 
Sherman's wide-reaching influence are sug- 
gested by a fingering of his letters, journals 
and memoranda, or by the marks and 
inscriptions traced on fly leaf and title- 

[204] 



THE PARSON'S INHERITANCE 

page in the books which now adorn the 
spacious Study of the parsonage. 

But there was ever present in the heart 
of master and mistress a pathetic sorrow, 
which shadowed them to the sun-setting. 

Their two sons, stricken with incurable 
malady, slipped away from them into the 
Great Beyond, leaving the lonely father 
and mother to pursue a long and quiet 
journey. Was it not fitting and charac- 
teristic that these devout, beneficent people 
should give and bequeath the homestead 
to the Ecclesiastical Society in trust for 
"the use, habitation and occupation of the 
minister of said Society . . who 

shall have right freely to inhabit, occupy 
and enjoy the said homestead and property 
without making any allowance or compen- 
sation therefor, directly or indirectly, and 
shall have full right, while ministering in 
said Society, to enter upon and use the 
premises without license or molestation"? 



Doctor Atwater, congenial comrade of 
Judge Sherman, was first in the ministerial 
line to enjoy his friend's noble gift. He 
had made his home in the quaint "Rising 
Sun Tavern," the hostelry where Presi- 

[205 1 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

dent Washington and his suite tarried on 
the night of October 16, 1789, when touring 
through New England. No worthier man 
could have entered upon the inheritance 
than Doctor Atwater the profound scholar 
and courtly gentleman. One of the leading 
metaphysicians of the country, elected 
some years later to the chair of philosophy 
in Princeton College and the position of 
Acting President for a period, an author 
of various learned works, editor of The 
Princeton Review, he was a man who 
would give distinction to any place or 
work appointed him. In scholarly attain- 
ments the jurist and the parson were well 
matched. The same atmosphere of broad 
culture and lofty contemplation therefore 
continued to prevail in the mansion. 

Doctor Atwater was a large, dignified 
man, his very presence significant and im- 
pressive. Quiet yet forceful in speech, he 
was particular never to transgress strict 
ideas of propriety in the pulpit. Doctor 
Cuyler tells how while visiting in town he 
preached for him one Sabbath, securing one 
definite result. "Tall, rotund, ponderous in 
his build," remarked Doctor Cuyler, "he 
would weigh as much as two of me. In my 
lively movements during the sermon I 

[206] 



THE PARSON'S INHERITANCE 

stamped my heel vigorously upon a knot 
driving it through to the cellar beneath us. 
*There' said I, 'Doctor, while you have 
preached here all these years apparently 
making little impression, I have rattled 
around in your pulpit this once and made 
a hole in the floor. ' " 

Doctor Atwater was an instructor at 
Yale when called to this old parish. He 
served the Prime Ancient Society for nine- 
teen faithful, happy years, yielding at last, 
however, to the academic spirit, when he 
gave the remaining years in service to the 
college of his second choice and love. The 
little group of healthy, mirthful children 
felt great tugs at the heart-strings when 
they exchanged broad fields, sea breezes 
and the tender associations of their native 
Connecticut for the strange scenes of Jersey 
sand plains and pine forests. 

Dr. Willis Lord was the next favored 
dweller in the Judge's mansion. An elo- 
quent speaker, a ripe and eminent scholar, 
his mind turned to books, young men and 
college halls. He continued the traditional 
fellowship of lofty thought and intellectual 
achievement peculiar to the place, but the 
call of the academic life sounded in his 
ears, urgent and convincing. For years 

1207] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

he filled the chair of Biblical History and 
Polemic Theology in the Seminary of the 
Northwest at Chicago, later becoming 
President of Wooster University, Ohio. 

Mr. McLean was a bachelor — fresh, 
ardent, abounding in fun, an impulsive 
and irrepressible young man, when he 
unpacked his books and belongings in the 
old Study. The big house appalled him. 
A strange hush settled down upon its 
many rooms, broken occasionally by rever- 
berating voices from the seclusion of the 
inhabited quarters. What did he hear at 
eventide when the first gloom of threaten- 
ing shadows had stolen into the corners 
of the great rooms? It sounded like the 
whisperings of children. And there cer- 
tainly passed through the halls and back 
into the intricacies of the rear rooms the 
slow tread of a stately gentleman. 

At midnight when the wind was high 
and the waves dashed boisterously over 
the beach, a pathetic cry might on occasion 
have been heard as it was carried from 
chamber to chamber by subtle messengers. 
And the disturbing noises in the sixty 
closets — well, they prevailed to such an 
extent that it became quite clear the house 
was numerously inhabited. It might be 

[208 J 



THE PARSON'S INHERITANCE 

expected that a lonely bachelor would 
"drive dull care away" by the exorcism 
of wreathed smoke. And it followed inevi- 
tably that a mistress must be installed in 
the great mansion before it was given into 
the ghostly keeping of a storied past. So 
there was a wedding. 

And we are told that the happy bride- 
groom, who for long time had practised 
the objectionable habit of running his 
pocket handkerchief through his fingers 
while preaching, on the first Sunday after 
returning from the bridal tour, in his 
nervousness recurred to the startling habit 
and to the horror and confusion of the 
bride, fluttered and flaunted before the 
congregation a handkerchief literally filled 
with holes — a striking relic of bachelor- 
hood's infelicity. 

The amplitude and variety of rooms in 
the mansion had its embarrassments — 
chairs, tables and lounges scattered through 
the large spaces appeared lonely and 
homesick, but Love tarried as a constant 
guest so all was well. During Doctor Mc- 
Lean's later years when as Secretary of 
the American Bible Society he served a 
large constituency, few hours gave him 

15 [ 209 ] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

keener delight than those spent in happy 
reminiscences of hfe in Sherman parsonage. 

On the coming of Doctor Rankin, there 
was a fresh infusion of child life — a long, 
jolly revel of gay, mischievous boys and 
girls, his own and the neighbors, the fun 
and frolic of school-days, the adventures 
of robust, inventive young America. The 
courtly master of the house belonged by 
"good rights" to the honorable succession 
of worthies, his predecessors in true home- 
making. One of the sons, now an editor 
of "The Congregationalist " and a writer 
of sweet songs, recently visited the house 
of childhood associations and as he trod 
the loved, familiar places, a flood of tender 
recollections crowded in upon him, joyous 
and sacred. 

When Doctor Burroughs was inducted 
into the mastership, he stood in the first 
flush of his laborious and fruitful career — 
a young man of lofty ambition, large work 
power, and fine scholarship. The little 
domain bewitched him so that preaching, 
Sanscrit, parish calls and institutional 
experiments had a large offset in raising 
strawberries, chickens and the varied 
harvest of garden, orchard and field. The 
discipline made him a wiser albeit not a 

[210] 



I 



THE PARSON'S INHERITANCE 

richer man— so that he steered clear of 
certain breakers while pastor in Amherst 
College, President of Wabash and professor 
in the Divinity School at Oberlin. But 
his days in Sherman parsonage were 
counted the brightest, happiest days; the 
generous life, its freedom, and hopeful- 
ness, the charm of Nature, the hallowing 
influences of the place, its genial fellow- 
ship and precious traditions strengthened 
with years and held him true to first love. 
When the second bachelor minister 
fresh from the school of the prophets 
moved into the great house it proved a 
form of strenuous living from which he 
gladly escaped in due time. With the 
advent of a bride, certain slight alter- 
ations marked the interior of the parson- 
age, but the house had retained through 
all the years its essential early features. 
True the old porch had given way to the 
long veranda more than a generation ago, 
and a rear piazza afforded a delightful 
retreat from the morning shine of a sum- 
mer's sun. The main hall had also been 
lengthened by absorbing a portion of Mrs. 
Sherman's first floor bed-room. When we 
mention the fact that the kitchen was 
removed to a rear wing and that a dining- 

[211] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

room took its place, the important changes 
have been recorded. The house then 
stood as the present inhabitants certify 
to it. 

What first impressed the last comers 
on the day of advent was the sense of 
liberal proportion in the large, airy rooms; 
an impression quickly obscured, however, 
by prevailing wonder at the labyrinths of 
very little rooms — shouts of joy, scurrying 
of feet, and other distant noises indicating 
juvenile enthusiasm and appreciation. Like 
the roar and lull of a distant storm, sounds 
rose and fell upon the ear. The sun had 
set upon the old, long day of quiet. The 
night of haunting shades and ghostly 
echoes had likewise passed away. The 
merry round of childish glee made glad 
the home of books and saints. One of the 
early demands on the part of these same 
small people was a story, — the story — of 
"The House with Sixty Closets." 



Now the Judge and his wife in their 
goodness of heart had given a fund for 
the preservation of the mansion, but alas, 
there came a day when the income was 
eaten fast and full and the house like Oliver 

[212] 



THE PARSON'S INHERITANCE 

Twist craved more. Age, with its "tooth 
of time," the wear and tear of vigorous, 
irrepressible hfe overflowing into every 
nook and cranny of the place, wrought 
decay and ruin. Was there a hand to stay 
this ravage of time and use? 

"Let the mansion be restored," said the 
ladies with notes of authority in their 
speech. A controlling spirit had kindled a 
flame of purpose. "Sherman parsonage is 
an historic memorial of one of New Eng- 
land's noblest Christian statesman and 
orators," such was the language of their 
appeal. "What better way is there for us 
to cherish and honor the memory of this 
great man than by making the mansion — 
so intimately associated with him and other 
eminent men of the past century — a well 
preserved and attractive monument, ap- 
pealing to the sentiment of our people and 
serving as an inspiration to what is best 
and highest within us.?" 

The ladies formed their committee, 
raised the necessary funds, engaged an 
architect, sent out specifications for bids, 
gave out the contract and interested them- 
selves in all the details of the business. 

It was a large and expensive task. 
"Better build a new house. It will cost 

[2131 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

less in the end" was the advice given by 
good counsellors. "Let the mansion be 
restored," repeated the ladies. 

Months hurried their way, the sound of 
saw and hammer was heard in the land, 
clouds of dust escaped from open windows, 
carpenters, masons, plumbers, decorators, 
cabinet-makers, painters and the whole 
fraternity of builders held high carnival in 
the place. 

Lo, one morning the mansion shone 
resplendent in its fresh coats of white 
paint; balustrades adorned the various 
roofs, the big chimneys looked bigger than 
ever in their renewed squareness and fresh 
redness, the massive pillar at the corner 
on the porch before the Study stood forth 
a stately sentinel unremitting in watchful- 
ness; the broken lines of the numerous 
wings and piazzas at the rear were straight- 
ened into an unbroken roof — a tine eighty 
or ninety feet long — the front veranda had 
grown wide and graceful Doric columns 
supported the ample shelter; the beautiful 
colonial entrance assumed more than its 
usual dignity and the street itself had 
become richer by this added attraction. 

The changes within the walls were 
chiefly those necessarily made by "modern 

[ 214 1 




z 
< 

s 

X 



THE PARSON'S INHERITANCE 

conveniences" and the decorator's art. 
More than a score of closets had disap- 
peared, being swallowed up in more 
chamber or book room. 

The Judge's library was the one apart- 
ment that had lost identity. Its gloom, the 
mystery of its many closets, its rear over- 
flow addition and the private entrance 
passage at the front were merged into one 
cheerful, expansive, beautiful room, with 
a broad alcove and three windows to 
streetward, a second fine alcove with its 
window overlooking the garden at the 
rear and two windows with a pleasant 
eastern exposure in the main part. There 
still remained seven closets connected 
with the room to serve a man's need and 
the room on the left of the rear alcove was 
converted into a supplemental book-room 
so that the demands of the day were met. 

The position of honor in this readjusted 
apartment was assigned to the collection 
of books made by the Judge — "The Pri- 
vate Library of Judge Roger Minott Sher- 
man" — so runs the inscription on the 
brass tablet sunk into the case "A Gift to 
the First Ecclesiastical Society for the use 
of the minister's library and to be always 

[215 1 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

kept in said library and never to be sold 
or exchanged." 

A second case holds in ward under glass, 
manuscripts, account books, journals, bills, 
letters written in the firm, clear hand of 
Mr. Sherman, and other heirlooms asso- 
ciated with the history of the mansion, 
all interesting memorials of a great and 
noble man. The restoration of the man- 
sion and the preservation of relics in 
attractive way speaks distinctively con- 
cerning the patriotism and generosity of 
those who achieved this notable task. 

The parson, wrapped in reminiscent 
mood, lingers before the sportive, tuneful 
wood fire on the hearth in the Study. It 
is New Year's eve, and the great clock in 
the distant west drawing-room is bestirring 
itself gently, rhythmically intimating that 
it is now minded to strike the twelve 
strokes which usher in the first day of 
another year-span. A dim light pervades 
the mansion. Suddenly the flames leap 
jubilantly, fantastically upon the glowing 
logs — strains of sweet music fall upon the 
listening ear — there is the rustle of gowns, 
the sound of many foot-falls, the merry 
ring of childish voices, gladsome words of 
heart-felt greetings. 

[216] 



THE PARSON'S INHERITANCE 

"I wish you a Happy New Year! " 
"Many returns of this glad day! " 
The mansion is peopled with shadowy 
forms, clad in the costumes of a hundred 
years. The young and the old move side 
by side. 

Yes, there stand the Judge and his 
wife — they are "receiving" — just beneath 
their portraits. How their faces flush 
with pleasure! What warm words of wel- 
come fall from their lips! Their boys — 
not the grown up sons — but the bright, 
hopeful little boys — are close beside them 
intent upon the curious spectacle. 

The light is dim, yet all see — the sounds 
are ghostly and elusive yet the air carries a 
great freightage of melody and kindly 
greeting. And then the children, big and 
little, clasp hands, they whirl through 
room after room, the very babes talk 
merrily, old closets are explored, mad 
frolics are called to mind, finger marks are 
traced on the staring white paint, books 
in the Study are scattered mischievously 
over tables, desks, and rugs, toys and 
garments are jumbled together in the 
college room, the china is displaced in the 
dining-room, some one has played with 
the clock for the congratulations upon the 

217 I 



A COUNTRY P ARISH 

rejuvenated mansion have hardly been 
given when the venerable time-piece stops 
short in its ringing in of the year — fire on 
the hearth expires and the parson shivers 
as he rubs his eyes and springs to his feet 
that he may catch at least the aftermath 
of strange sights and sounds which per- 
chance still tarry with the mystery of 
midnight in the charmed precincts of the 
dear old house. 



[218 



XV 

A PARISH GARDEN AND ITS STORY 

The beach is serpentine, although the 
curves have long and graceful sweeps, 
bounding the garden on two, almost three 
sides, as it extends miles toward the south- 
west. 

There are several approaches to the sea — 
man-made roads, which bisect the marshes 
and divide Nature's horticultural exuber- 
ance into sections. The sinuous expanse 
of garden is bordered on the rear by the 
bold works of aggressive conventionality, 
namely, a farm house or two, several corn 
fields and meadows, an old historic Burial 
Hill (only six or eight feet above tide water), 
half a dozen orchards and groves, and an 
enticing margin of trees, young and old, 
evergreen and deciduous, through which 
peep the gables of faraway houses in the 
village. 

One fortunate advantage which a marsh 
garden possesses is the fact that Nature 
does all the gardening, man never spending 

[2191 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

a penny upon it or giving a thought to 
spading, planting or other care-taking. 

'Self sown my stately garden grows." 

A man revels in the free, marvellous 
products of this vast, untamed, untamable 
wilderness of beauty. 

" 'Tis here, 'tis here, thou canst unhand thy heart 
And breathe it free, and breathe it free. 
By rangy marsh, in lone sea-liberty." 

The hours are checkered with innumer- 
able surprises. Now it is the sky that has 
assumed unwonted beauty and splendor, 
the clouds touched here and there with 
the delicate shadings of many colors — blue, 
saffron, pink, violet, a crimson or a golden 
glow. Later it is the sea flecked with 
shadows, which are tossed merrily by the 
waves, until they disappear in the deeps 
beneath. There are shining pathways 
thrown athwart the fickle surface — path- 
ways that invite the dreamer to saunter 
through their evanescent mysteries. On 
some gray winter's day, when the winds 
are rough and boisterous, the waves climb 
to the crest of the beach and stretch forth 
their white hands clutching for the solitary 
pilgrim as he lingers in captivity to the 
grandeur of the scene. The spray is 

[2201 



PARISH GARDEN AND ITS STORY 

thrown in great handfuls square in his face. 
Now and again some ambitious billow 
spends its strength in a stealthy effort to 
grip his feet and undermine his sandy path. 
And how madly the winds shriek, how 
gruffly the waters strike the shore, imperi- 
ously calling upon all nature to swell the 
flowing tide of riotous song! 

And what voices sound in the ear, 
sweet and low, loud and fantastic, gruff 
and mandatory, seductive and winsome — 
angel voices and demon voices — voices of 
the land and of the sea — voices stealing 
into the heart like the strains of an seolian 
harp — voices brazen, vibrant, appalling, 
filled with terror and the threat of woe! 



One summer's morning the call of the 
marshes came early and insistent. It was 
sunrise and the day-king stretched a high- 
way of glory straight from the eastern hori- 
zon across the placid Sound to the sentinel 
grasses on the summit of the glistening 
beach. The sweet breath of June pervaded 
the air. Ten thousand blossoms scattered 
through the fretwork of congenial soil 
nodded a welcome and gave the inspiration 
of beautiful form and exquisite color to the 

[2211 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

Garden. The birds, myriad company, 
flitted joyously from tree to tree, from 
perch to perch, sometimes swinging Hke 
playful children as they cling to swaying 
saplings. And their matins made heaven 
resound with varied notes of jubilation. 

As the early zephyrs gently sported with 
leaf and branch and bird-note and distant 
low of cattle on the hill-side, the old marsh 
Garden drew the pilgrim into his retreat, 
while the song of the poet vibrated upon 
his lips: 

"I win fly in the greatness of God as the marsh-hen flies. 
In the freedom that fills all the space 'twixt the marsh 

and the skies; 
By so many roots as the marsh-grass sends in the sod 
I will heartily lay me a-hold of the greatness of God. 
Oh, like to the greatness of God is the greatness within 
The range of the marshes." 

As the parson yielded to the spell of the 
place, the Spirit of the Garden stole into 
his presence and quietly talked with him 
heart to heart. 

"Why have you lived a vexed and nar- 
row life all these years, mind closed to the 
precious, open secrets of the marshes? 
Bethink you how I have longed to share 
freedom and mystery — the loveliness of 
shapely plant and painted blossom — the 
music of feathered songsters and whis- 

[222] 



PARISH GARDEN AND ITS STORY 

pering trees — all the charm and glory, the 
abundant vigor and large vitality — bethink 
you how I have longed to share these 
things with you and your deaf, blind, busy 
kinsfolk! You woidd not hear me when 
I called to you with my many voices. 
You would not see me when I filled your 
eyes with a thousand visions splendid. 
How could I share with you my overflow- 
ing treasury of life when every channel of 
fellowship was closed?" 

The parson stood mute and sad at the 
remembrance of lost years with their 
neglected opportunities. 

"But, dear son, let bygones be bygones. 
You have entered the charmed circle; the 
eyes and the ears of your soul are wide 
open. I will give you treasures both old 
and new. Be cheered — take your heritage 
of happiness." 

The pilgrim's face was radiant with hope. 

*'Do you know this is a wonderful Gar- 
den," continued the Spirit. "I have pre- 
sided over it since the time when it first 
emerged from the dark waters at the dawn 
of creation." 

A rollicking chorus from the bobolink 
choir burst upon the parson's ears at this 
moment. 

[223] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

"The bobolinks from silence rouse 
And flash along melodious ways." 

The sweet interruption is for a moment — 
then the Spirit continues: "I have trained 
half a dozen varieties of marsh grasses. 
Are they not lovely — the bright and the 
dark — the short and the long. And the 
small witching crystals sparkling upon 
them are done by the breath of the dew or 
the hand of the sea." The shimmer of 
early morn decked a million swaying 
spears of rank verdure. 

"Do you see the bayberry, the dwarf 
cedars, the wild plums and the scrub oaks 
to the southwest — that mile-long narrow 
stretch skirting the marsh, holding in check 
the sea? I call it my birdery. It is filled 
with nests and songs." 

"Yes," whispered the parson, "I have 
lingered in its shady seclusion, lying prone 
on the sands 'neath the sheltering arches. 
The bird-notes have slipped into my soul 
with their delicate wafting of bliss." 

"Ah, man," cried the Spirit with linger- 
ing tenderness, "you are fast becoming a 
child after my own heart. There are days 
and days of abundant friendship in store 
for you." 

While the sun slowly climbed out of the 

[224] 



PARISH GARDEN AND ITS STORY 

eastern waters and scattered over the 
landscape the indescribable glory of the 
ever fresh dawn, the Spirit of the Garden 
told the story of seed-time and harvest, 
the tranquil rest of winter months and the 
genial awakening of welcome spring. It 
was a lovely parable of life. *' Speak to 
the earth and it shall teach you," said 
wise man Job. 

"Man himself is fruit of the soil, the 
child of Nature. What folly to immure 
himself within narrow walls, breathe stale 
air impregnated with poisonous microbes, 
ruin his eyes with the fine print of many 
books and grow feeble, twisted and dyspep- 
tic?" 

The parson gave a sad assent to the 
remark. He felt its truth and justice. 
"A man is only half a man who refuses to 
claim all his Nature rights and privileges. 
You see, we Spirits of Air and Sunshine 
and Gardens and Forests, we hold the 
key to health and happiness, we know the 
secret of the strong arm, the clear brain, 
the merry heart, the imperious will. Take 
every breath of fresh air that comes your 
way — revel in the radiancy of light — ab- 
sorb the beauty of landscape, the melody of 
songful creation, the loveliness of the rich, 

16 [ 225 1 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

varied life about you! Drink deeply of 
the springs which will reveal themselves 
to your faithful search as you push eagerly 
through fen and fell, dark forest and shaggy 
hillside. The rush and splendor of life 
comes to the man who tarries beneath the 
roof of the trees and the boundless canopy 
of the high heavens." 

Now while the Spirit discoursed sweetly, 
joyously with this newborn comrade in the 
marshes, the day was making glad every 
grass spear and quivering leaf, the meadow 
larks, the song sparrows, the wonderful 
array of pink, blue, yellow, white, crimson, 
and lavender blossoms, the trees, the in- 
sects, the wild creatures that had slipped 
from their secure hiding places — all the 
vast, marvellous things, animate and inan- 
imate. The glory of it passes human 
speech. It is one of man's supreme experi- 
ences — the revelation that for an hour or a 
day he is in tune with Nature — the vigor 
and richness of the seen world flows in 
upon the soul like a rushing mighty wind 
or snatches the soul away from the strain 
and trammelment of the ordinary and the 
prosaic into the boundless realm of ecstasy 
and vision. 

But hours of ravishment are brief 

[226] 



PARISH GARDEN AND ITS STORY 

and fleeting. The very intensity of feeling 
militates against their continuity. This 
high tension is perilous, so the Spirit of 
the Garden vanished and the pilgrim flung 
himself upon the cool sands in sheer exhaus- 
tion. The tide pushed its tranquil way 
higher and higher up the beach, the birds 
mellowed their songs to a low accompani- 
ment of the advancing day. The man who 
toils appeared in the distance and there 
was disillusionment. 



But the Spirit made good the promise 
of friendship. The parson had simply to 
discover the charmed times. Sunset fa- 
vored the gracious intimacy — and the talk 
often stretched into the borderland of even- 
ing when the moon spanned the sea with a 
bridge of silver splendor and shadowy 
forms came trooping through the gentle 
light, bringing fresh treasures from the 
east, tales of oriental magic, fancy-free 
pictures of the long ago. 

"My Garden," said the Spirit one deli- 
cious evening when the parson rested in 
the lap of mother earth amid the tall 
whispering grasses near the sea, "my Gar- 
den is instinct with history and romance. 

f 227 1 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

The glare of this modern civihzation can- 
not obliterate its treasured associations. 
To be sure the covetous farmer encroaches 
upon my domain and tries to curtail my 
boundaries by planting onions and potatoes 
or other market stuff along the edges of the 
marsh, but I get even with him, for when 
the winds swell and the tide rises beyond 
all reason in its vexation, I lure both wind 
and tide my way and make them do my 
bidding. With wild merriment they sweep 
over the man-made fields, the fields stolen 
from the marshes, and every vestige of 
labor is lost. So I come into my own 
again.** 

Now that seemed heartless to the parson 
and the Spirit read his inmost thought. 

"Let me tell you a secret. The things 
of greatest profit in the world are not 
always gold mines or patches of potatoes.*' 
The Spirit had a wise and compelling man- 
ner of speech. "A tiny flower will some- 
times do more for the human heart than the 
wealth of Indias. You human folk must 
feed on love and beauty and truth some 
good part of the time. An acre of Garden, 
set like an emerald in cincture of silver 
sheen, is worth bushels of common produce. 
It speaks to the higher nature of man. 

[2281 



PARISH GARDEN AND ITS STORY 

The mystery of color and form, waves of 
glistering heat and child play of shadows 
as they chase each other across the change- 
ful expanse, make an exquisite poem writ- 
ten in the beautiful sign language of afflu- 
ent Nature." 

True; and how many times had the parson 
wandered through tuneful marsh land and 
rock strewn pastures utterly oblivious to 
the finer shades of meaning in these things, 
taking note upon such acres as so many 
pieces of waste land. 

** There is no waste land in all creation," 
explained the Spirit. "Every inch of soil, 
rock, stream or ocean bed has its uses. 
You human kind are to cultivate the very 
sky. It will yield poet and romancer, 
lone sailor and midnight watcher of the 
stars its generous inspiration and kindly 
helpfulness." And as these words were 
spoken the heavens overarched the 
dreamer with their glittering splendors and 
masses of silvery clouds floated airily 
through the deep spaces, quenching for a 
moment the glory of many a nameless sun 
only to lift the curtain again and usher in 
fresh scenes of stellar radiancy. 

On this particular matchless summer 

[229 1 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

evening the Spirit appeared in reminiscent 
mood. 

"What strange things have happened 
within the Garden and its neighborhood? 
You see these little knolls and ribs of sand 
which I threw up as breastworks against 
the too familiar approach of old Ocean are 
vantage points. As I linger on them my 
eyes sweep both land and sea. Off there 
to the southwest I saw, two generations 
ago, the Lexington burn. More then seven 
score human beings lost their lives. It was 
infinitely sad. The biting cold of a winter 
night, the fury of passionate flames and the 
ruthless clutch of the encompassing waters 
made a league and did the work." The 
parson shivered at the recital although the 
heat of summer clung like a garment to 
mother earth and her children. 

"Once upon a time — it is more than a 
century in the past — I fondled and cher- 
ished a dear boy who haunted the captivat- 
ing precincts of the Garden. I called him 
my little Benjamin. His home stood over 
on the hill back of the eastern inlet. He 
was one of the Nature-lovers from old 
Puritan stock. Time out of mind would 
he slip down into the Garden, fling himself 
into my embrace, and question me with 

[230] 



PARISH GARDEN AND ITS STORY 

all the grace and passion of a true son. 
Would I tell him why there was such a 
diversity of colors, how did one seed or 
root grow into the fleur-de-lis and another 
into the orange-red milkweed, what made 
the sky blue and the sea green or gray, who 
ploughed the marshes, when did the birds 
learn to sing, had the snakes a father, how 
did the rocks become hard and the clouds 
wet, where did the sea get its salt and in 
what place did the man stay who had 
charge of the winds? Why a thousand 
questions my little Benjamin asked! Did 
I answer? Watch, my child, said I. And 
I showed him how to worm secrets out of 
Nature. I trained him to keen and con- 
stant observation. I filled his mind with 
the riches of antique lore. He never fished 
or dug clams or set traps for weasel, fox 
or muskrat that I did not whisper to him 
curious things. He was at home in forest 
and on shore — a self-trained enthusiastic 
observer. And this little Benjamin — my 
foster-child and bosom friend — became a 
world famous scholar and scientist reflect- 
ing his glory upon this Garden, Yale Col- 
lege and the nation, and the world called 
the dear boy Professor Silliman." 

The parson Hstened, hardly daring to 

1231 1 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

move hand or feet, for fear that the Spirit's 
mood might change. 

"I saw at midnight, May first, 1779, the 
whale boat with its crew of nine Tories 
creep into the sedge over there to the east 
of the Garden. The British came to take 
General Silliman prisoner and they dragged 
him down through my marshes trampling 
carelessly in their haste, pushing quickly to 
sea, soon lost in the darkness." The story is 
told by the son in his autobiographic sketch. 

"It was a frightful scene which I wit- 
nessed on the nights of July 8th and 9th in 
this same year," said the Spirit. "These 
salt meadows were scourged with fire. 
Soldiers from British ships stalked back and 
forth along the lane, across my Garden and 
up and down the beach, carrying ravage 
and desolation with them. When abused 
and frightened women fled from the burn- 
ing village to hide themselves within the 
shelter of grasses and fragrant shrubs, the 
heartless foe tossed fire-brands into this 
retreat; the flowers withered and burned, 
luxuriant vines shrivelled away and died, 
the birds and tiny creatures which habited 
the place were driven forth in terror. My 
Garden suffered the same stroke that laid 
in ashes the historic town." 

[232] 



PARISH GARDEN AND ITS STORY 

These sad memories seemed not in har- 
mony with the sweetness and majesty of 
the evening, so the parson gently insinu- 
ated that there must have been long genera- 
tions when Nature revelled in her luxuri- 
ance unchallenged by the touch of the 
white man. 

"Yes, yes.*' There was fresh anima- 
tion in the voice of the Spirit. "The red 
man, noble son of the earth, thrived here 
many ages. He lived in comradeship with 
Nature. The eagle eye, brawny arm, 
swift foot, keen ear, erect carriage, stoic 
endurance were given him in reward for 
loyalty. Why do not men of today learn 
the great lesson? Stay in the open, talk 
with the trees, lie on moss-beds, rise with 
the sun, read the signs of the heavens, feed 
on plain fare, revel in sunshine and rejoice 
in the free service of Nature! 

"You will rid yourself of dull care and 
abound in all the wealth of noblest, glad- 
dest life." 

The parson heaved a sigh for a vision of 
"what might have been" stood clear before 
the eyes of his mind. Had he like the Spir- 
it's little Benjamin haunted Nature's 
retreats what joy of robust manhood charm 
might have been his possession, to say 

[2331 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

nothing of the happiness which comes with 
the sense of this higher knowledge and 
power. " There were long days when these 
swarthy denizens of the woods reared 
their wigwams along the edges of my Gar- 
den. They shot their arrows into the 
breasts of the wild fowl, they dragged the 
succulent oysters from their beds and 
roasted them upon hot stones, they be- 
guiled the fish from the sea and feasted 
Hke royal guests, — indolent, virile children 
of Nature. I loved and fondled them," 
whispered the Spirit. *'I grieved when 
they were hunted from the land. They had 
learned to trust me and I talked often with 
them. Many a secret did they gain 
through this sweet intimacy — secrets which 
I have kept hidden away in my bosom 
since the Redman's going — secrets which 
I will share with the true-heart who wisely, 
tenderly courts me and invites my confi- 
dences." 

This was a noble pledge breathed into 
the ears of the new found comrade. And 
there followed such a telling of strange 
things — such frank, happy narrative of 
times, seasons, changes, salt meadows, the 
growth of the reef which ran into the sea, 
the building of the Garden by the hands of 

[234] 



PARISH GARDEN AND ITS STORY 

a million toilers, the rise of the lands after 
strange convulsions up and down the 
coast — such a story of wonders that the 
dreamer was lost in the labyrinth of 
mysteries. 

It was a new life from this hour forth 
which the parson lived, for the Spirit of 
the Garden had taught him how to see and 
hear as he moved through the vast, pal- 
pitant realm of Nature. He learned that 
fairyland lies all about us — that wood 
nymphs, mermaids, sprites and ethereal 
creatures crowd land and sea with their 
friendly company. Did not maids of the 
mist speak to him when the dense fog set- 
tled down upon the shores and fleeting 
shadowy forms danced merrily upon the 
shifting sea? Truly it was some beautiful, 
evanescent creature which emerged from 
the heated marshes as the sun beat down 
upon the shining motes floating resplen- 
dently upon the restless air. 

But the great, deep lessons taught by 
the fresh insight into things had higher 
meaning and a bearing upon life infinitely 
broader. A friendly seagull which has 
tramped over an acre of low-lying, tide- 
washed sands now takes wing and travels 
northward : 

[235 1 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

*' He who from zone to zone. 
Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight. 
In the long way that I must tread alone. 
Will lead my steps aright." 

These are the thoughts which flit through 
the mind as the parson lingers. 

" There is a rapture on the lonely shore. 
There is society where none intrudes. 
By the deep sea — " 

Days there are when God reveals His 
presence in such measure that the soul 
would fain cry with Hawthorne — 

"O good God! O beautiful world!" 

Byron on his return from the pilgrimage 
sings of the sea: 

"Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form 
Glasses itself in tempests; in all time. 
Calm or convulsed, in breeze or gale or storm 
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 
Dark — heaving — boundless, endless and sublime — 
The image of Eternity, the throne 
Of the Invisible." 

One day the sea, another day some 
gentle songster, now the glory of sunset 
and again the tumult of wind and water — 
chorus of humble bees, wafting of flower 
odors, glint of dew-drop, visions of the 
cloud country — what ravishment and inspi- 
ration to the elect soul. 

[236] 



PARISH GARDEN AND ITS STORY 

To the prayer of Thompson straightly 
and with devoutness say "Amen:" 

" Nature, 
Enrich me with the knowledge of thy works; 
Snatch me to heaven." 

It is not alone or chiefly that buoyant 
health and great good cheer may be had 
for the persistent asking. Chaucer hath 
the glory of truth when he pays homage 
unto Nature as "The vicar of the Almightie 
Lord." 



[2371 



XVI 

THE CHARMS OF A RURAL PASTORATE 

One day in strawberry time the parson 
played cicerone to a guest who is pastor 
of The Broadway Tabernacle. First there 
was a long, sinuous drive through lovely 
patches of woodland, over gently sloping 
hills, down by murmuring streams and 
along the bluff, bulking against the sea. 
Then the forlorn, city-weary man was taken 
by the hand and led down into an abundant, 
fragrant garden. The roses bloomed for 
him in all happy luxuriance, the birds sang 
brief mid-day refrains of June chorals — 
the gorgeous butterflies flashed a hundred 
hues of radiancy into his eyes — and the 
strawberries — well, they blushed with joy 
to their very tips and nodded enticingly 
as much as to say, "Touch me, taste me." 
To this witchery the guest swiftly re- 
sponded, assuming an attitude of prayer 
on the mellow soil and bending low over 
the luscious fruit like a devotee intent 
upon most respectful posture in the pres- 
ence of his favorite idol. 

[238] 



CHARMSOFA R U R A L P A S T O R A T E 

The lunch hour was followed by a saun- 
ter seaward and a long stretch of free and 
ea§y walk with interludes of talk and 
dream and fancy evoked by the vast 
expanse of waters. 

The hour that ushered in or out the sun- 
set summoned the parson and guest with 
some fifty young men to the clam bake. 
Chicken, fish and clams — sandwiches, 
crackers and other proper accompaniments 
with coffee, fruit and cakes — this was the 
first course and the second course was like 
unto it, followed by a jolly dessert of college 
songs, while the surge of waters beat time 
against the resisting sands. And when the 
sun had hidden far away beneath the west- 
ern horizon Nature drew a thick curtain 
of gray-black clouds across the face of 
hastening moon — and a quiet lullaby of 
whispering sea, rising winds, restless grasses 
and shrubbery turned thought to home and 
rest and sleep. 

On the morrow the parson guided the 
guest down through the marsh garden into 
the merry, busy life of these seductive 
regions, imparting to him the secrets of 
birds' nests, rabbit covers and wondrous 
beds of beach peas or other favorite flowers, 
bringing him at last to an enticing sand-bed 

[239 1 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

close upon the sheltering shade of tall 
grasses. Here the guest flung himself upon 
dear old mother earth and lingered in 
sweet, blessed isolation, getting in tune 
with the Infinite. As the hours sped their 
way, a new light came into his eyes, the 
relaxed form absorbed new life, the wrinkles 
fled from his brow, a delicate color mounted 
his cheeks, he became another man, wiser, 
stronger, richer, better. 

"Ah," said he, "give me the country 
parish with its precious friendships, and 
all the hours of day to cherish them." It 
was not so much the weight of years as the 
weight of labor, responsibility and demands 
that sorely burdened the quiet guest. "A 
city minister has no time to cherish friend- 
ships. The hours of days are not long 
enough to answer the thousand calls that 
insist upon our heed." 

Many thoughts came trooping to the 
music of that compelling phrase "the 
charms of a rural pastorate." 



It is not to be gainsaid that a great, thriv- 
ing city has strange fascination for the 
average man. Its appeal is direct and 
practical — a tangible array of advantages 

[24J1 



CHARMS OF A RURAL PASTORATE 

present themselves on the instant. And 
men will mass themselves in cities, — the 
trend of life moves that way. Imperative 
is the need of teachers and leaders in these 
large centers. We bid them all Godspeed 
in their exacting and multitudinous labors. 
But the spell of the country is upon us and 
we must confess our faith. Here is task 
and opportunity that will not only match 
urban conditions or demands, but will 
afford as compensation for unstinted serv- 
ice life's noblest enrichments. 

A country parish yields the same diver- 
sity of taste, station, temperament, culture 
and achievement found in the city, although 
the general opinion is to the contrary. 
Human nature is human nature in what- 
ever environment it is placed and sooner 
or later its essential traits and peculiarities 
express themselves. It is a matter of 
adaptation whether in city or country. 
"All things to all men," Paul's comprehen- 
sive phrase on the subject, indicates the 
key to the situation — a generous and happy 
adjustment of the individual to the people 
whom he must love and help. 

The country parish will not vie with the 
city for numbers and its members may be 
scattered from Dan to Beersheba, but these 

17 [241] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

conditions are to be reckoned among its 
distinct advantages. The pastor has be- 
come a tradition in our great churches. 
He finds it impossible to meet his people 
in their homes. They hear him preach on 
the Sabbath and gain sight of him in some 
public function during the week, but any 
nearer relationship is a dream for the 
majority. 

The old-time visit of a country minister, 
the long stay of a colonial parson when he 
made his regular parish round, is a thing 
of the past; but he still goes among the 
people, visiting them in joy and sorrow, 
entering heartily into their concerns, the 
trusted confidant and precious counsellor. 
The family is not summoned for prayer and 
catechetical examination according to the 
example of the primitive days, but there is 
a close and tender relation of real friend- 
ship — the mutual interest and affection 
of people who have lived through common 
trials and victories, learning each other's 
worth and the joy of giving and doing in 
the name of our Master. 

What charming homes many of the 
country parishes provide for their min- 
isters ! Some good friend builds a pleasant, 
modern house so that it is flooded with 

1242] 



CHARMS OF A RURAL PASTORATE 

sunshine and says to the people, "This is 
our manse." The place is sacred; its 
brightness and good cheer enter into the 
life of the whole town. 

It is true that a city church may build 
something of the kind, but real estate rises 
in value and one day it is sold. Why not 
rent a place .^ So the preacher passes from 
one street to another, getting into touch 
with a larger number of his flock perhaps, 
but forfeiting all sense and comfort of a 
minister's house. In the country it is 
becoming quite the fashion for old historic 
homesteads to pass by last will and testa- 
ment into the charge of the parish for the 
use of the shepherd. This is a beautiful 
tribute to the past, present and future : the 
past, as such a manse becomes the treas- 
ure-house of sweet, precious memories; 
the present, as it fosters the spirit of peace 
and happiness in the preacher's heart; the 
future, as it binds all the generations into 
a blessed social fellowship and continually 
reminds the home-makers concerning love's 
gracious privileges. Blessed is the parish 
whose loyalty adorns and enriches the par- 
sonage with precious associations. 



243 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

Books have a special charm in the coun- 
try. The atmosphere of respectful quiet 
favors deep thought. The roar of trade 
will break in upon a man who seeks never 
so retired a place in city limits. Great 
clouds of black dust may curtain away his 
light and darken his very soul with gloom. 
But life among the hills or by the sea or in 
the valley is a life gloriously free. A man 
retires to his study, the song of birds floats 
in through the open window, the hum of 
busy insects, the gentle undertone of 
winds — it all harmonizes with mood of 
meditation. When winter invites nature 
to take her annual sleep and the driven 
snow lies snug against the house, what long 
delicious evenings of priceless, uninter- 
rupted isolation the bookman enjoys! He 
sits among kings and queens, the wise and 
noble spirits of all time. They are looking 
down upon him with infinite gladness and 
hope. He has simply to invite Shake- 
peare, Ruskin, Dante, Milton to speak and 
they give him their vast, splendid wealth. 

There are times when it becomes a rev- 
elry of delight — this fellowship with books 
in the delectable secrecy of a library on 
some riotous winter's night. The good and 
the true — favorite singers and teachers — 

[244] 



CHARMS OF A RURAL PASTORATE 

spirits freighted with love, cheer, wisdom, 
come down from the retirement of shelves 
and cases, throng the room with their subtle 
presences and instill something of their 
life into the heart of the startled reader — 
transforming the hour and the place into 
a heaven on earth. 

The parson has learned a secret which 
he will impart to any true heart who will 
promise to keep it. There are many books 
which must be read out under the blue sky, 
away from frowning walls and imprisoning 
conditions of stone and wood. They must 
be read within the hearing of Dame Nature, 
accompanied by her wordless comments, 
her beautifully suggestive annotations and 
illustrations. The publishers are shrewdly 
putting into our hands pocket editions of 
the world's classics. The parson looks 
with pride and affection upon these wise, 
strong comrades who travel with him up 
and down the parish, through all kinds of 
weather, under the most varied circum- 
stances. 

There are calls to be made back in the 
country two or three miles. It is the day 
for a ride on the bicycle and there will be 
half a dozen lovely resting-places where the 
views are broad and varied, the woods and 

[245] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

the waters being vocal with happiness. 
Here the parson will tarry, drawing from 
his voluminous pocket a handy selection 
from Tennyson or a favorite play from 
Shakespeare. Beneath an old oak — old — 
three hundred years ago when the Indians 
are said to have used it as a signal tower 
and rendezvous — old beyond all neighbor 
trees and called by Professor Dana one of 
the Tree Monarchs of New England — 
beneath this rugged, venerable land-mark, 
the parson lingers wh'i3 he reads "The 
Talking Oak"— 

" The fat earth feed thy branchy root. 
That under deeply strikes; 
The northern mornings o'er thee shoot, 
High up in silver spikes." 

Never does the music of sweet singer 
sound sweeter than when chanted to the 
mellifluous accompaniment of Nature's 
harmonies. 

"There's music in the sighing of a reed; 
There's music in the gushing of a rill; 
There's music in all things, if men had ears: 
Their earth is but an echo of the spheres." 

When duty takes a man back into the 
country or down through the woods he 
fails to improve his opportunity in neglect- 
ing to bring for companionship the gracious 

[246] 



CHARMS OF A RURAL PASTORATE 

spirit of Emerson or Thoreau or Browning 
or the like tried friend. And if perchance 
there are necessary delays when the parson 
has reached his calling place, delays inci- 
dent to a preparing for the welcome visit, 
it is a most satisfactory way of waiting, 
this resort to the company of the good book 
carried with you. Many an hour is saved 
in this way, invested in the cultivation of 
high thinking and commendable patience. 
A few years' pastoral service, illuminated 
and transformed by this happy practice 
will induct a man into the chief treasures 
of English literature — a practice that must 
restrict itself to country life. For the man 
moving up and down the streets of a city 
would find it perilous to walk with bowed 
head intent upon his book. There would 
be inevitable collisions. And the reader 
standing stock still on a corner under the 
shade of some grateful tree might be an 
obstruction in the stream of trade or stig- 
matized as a crank and lunatic. 

Ah, this bewitching and soul-satisfying 
liberty which pertains to life in the "open" 
— which gives zest and inspiration to a 
sensitive pilgrim! 



247] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

There is abundant work for the country 
minister — there are no sinecure parishes 
for an honest, faithful man. But the sense 
of leisure — as compared with workers in 
the larger fields — is a very precious boon. 
The years may be devoted to the mastery 
of large tasks in scholarship. Not a few 
men of mark have spent the early days in 
quiet parishes, true to every present duty, 
but so orderly and economic in the use of 
time that they achieved important labors 
in the broader realm of study and research. 

The public library has become such a 
common institution in our towns and vil- 
lages that books are accessible to every 
reader. The man who is earnest in the 
matter will have little difficulty in getting 
for his use the great, essential works of 
literature, history and religion. 

What a wise move it would be on the 
part of every young preacher if he would 
spend his first years of service in the coun- 
try parish — the place with largest oppor- 
tunity for self-culture, the place where 
multitudinous demands of a general nature 
did not absorb and restrict him to his actual 
impoverishment of intellect and spirit.'^ 

[248] 



CHARMS OF A RURAL PASTORATE 

The "call" of the country is urgent and 
tireless. 

"Come, drink at these quiet fountains of 
knowledge and wisdom." It is the call 
of old, dear books — the great books of all 
time, read in the seclusion of a modest 
manse. "Come, look upon me and live." 
Nature speaks and flow^ers, trees, birds, 
finny tribes, curious creatures of field and 
forest, mute soulful landscapes, scurrying 
clouds, unseen frolicsome winds and the 
myriad animate and inanimate things, all 
join the chorus until the call compels the 
heedful listener to respond. 

"Come." The voice is a "still, small 
voice." It sounds at midnight through 
the echoless watches of dreams. It sounds 
at dawn of day when renewed freshness 
gives a man his first free thought of life. 
It sounds in the din of approaching battle 
when one trembles because of immaturity. 
"Come! I need you — cheerful, generous, 
laborer." 

"I come." Days speed their way — the 
country weaves its magic spell and holds 
the prisoner in happy, unconscious thrall, 
giving leisure and opportunity for work 
potential, far-reaching and immeasurable 
in worth. 

[249] 



A COUNTRY PARISH 

For the country lads and lassies — yield- 
ing to the inspiration of ideals held aloft by 
faithful preachers, — well-equipped in body, 
mind and spirit, and abounding in robust 
life, — instinctively climb to leadership and 
victory. The names are legion. 

Favored above his fellows is the man 
fore-ordained to be a shaping force in the 
shining career of these country boys and 
girls who bear the chief burdens of a great 
Republic and perpetually infuse their vigor 
into the world's work. 



What sacred hours of fellowship with the 
Informing and Controlling Spirit is granted 
to the reverent man as he withdraws into 
the privacy of Nature and meets God face 
to face! Verily, "The groves were God's 
first temples"; the mountain tops stand 
second, "I will lift up mine eyes unto the 
hills from whence cometh my help"; and 
the sea, "Darkly, deeply, beautifully blue" 
in its noblest moods invoke the spirit of 
worship — its vasty realm, o'er arched by 
the heavens, most spacious and magnificent 
cathedral of all. 

There was a week of clear, crisp weather 
one winter — superb days following the 

[250] 



CHARMS OF A RURAL PASTORATE 

wake of a wild storm and the sunsets were 
matchless. Walking through the marshes, 
during the supreme hour of glorious pag- 
eantry, the parson seemed to be trans- 
ported into celestial realms — a score, a 
hundred shadings of vivid color were woven 
into infinite tapestries and endless mosaics 
for walls and ceilings — gold, blue, crimson, 
sapphire, orange, ochres, pinks running 
into purples and yellows lost in delicate 
greens, blue-black and soft gray, passionate 
scarlet and ashes of roses. The floor of 
the illimitable temple was the white driven 
snow and the tranquil sea worked into irreg- 
ular tessellated pavement all aglow with 
the light of departing day. The silence of 
the place and the hour was most worshipful. 
Did not God make his presence felt.f^ The 
heart stood still for a moment in ecstasy 
of jubilation. The subtle calm was vocal 
with praises. There came into the life a 
fresh sense of the Divine. 



[251 



